


All Is As All Should Be

by F1nch



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), the adventure zone: commitment
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Agender Character, Airplane Crashes, Alcoholic Withdrawl, Alcoholism, Animal Attacks, Blood, Canon Compliant, Car Accidents, Car Chases, F/F, Gayer than I intended it to be, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Mafia mentions, Minor Character Death, No one likes joe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Politics, Post-Canon, Prison Mention, Prison riot mention, Rated Mature For Swearing And Violence, Secret Organizations, Superpowers, nadiya crashes multiple vehicles, original character death, pre-story character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-03-05 14:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 46
Words: 84,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13389333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F1nch/pseuds/F1nch
Summary: With the broadcast behind them, The Wonder Triplets (and the technokentic they got stuck with) find that there’s a lot more before them than a normal life.Act One: Chapters 1 through 5Act Two: Chapters 5 through 14Act Three: Chapters 14 through 32Intermission: Chapters 33 through 38Act Four: Chapters 39 through 45Epilogue: 46





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note that the dividers signify the changing of character POV.
> 
> I intended this to not have any relationships, but I'm blaming @birdiethebibliophile for the fact that I can't write Nadiya as anything but aggressively gay
> 
> Slight warning for emetophobia

Dark clouds dotted the sky, heavy with impending rain, but not blocking out the rays of the sun. A silent wind padded amongst the trees, heating their leaves with its warm spring breath.

Despite the promise of rain, the air was alight with the roar of children’s laughter, as it always was in Halleluland.

Mary Sage stood on the bow of the Noah’s ark recreation, watching the spattering of younger children gush at the unicorn animatronic wandering the golden main street.

She raised her hand, feeling static spring from her fingers and into the air. The unicorn stopped its wandering and raised its head, looking back at the loose group of girls following it around. It let out a light nicker, tossing its mane and shaking its tail.

Technokinesis could be annoying sometimes, but in a theme park full of animatronics, it sure was useful, not to mention fun.

The mystical creature flicked its ears and whinnied as one of the girls stretched up to touch its nose. Her fingers wandered through the beast’s fake fur, making little ridges wherever they went. With a little squeak of machinery, it lowered its head, allowing her to touch its fabric ears and smooth them down. She giggled in delight as they popped back up as soon as she released them.

Soon, another child joined her, curiously petting the equine’s face.

Then, she screamed.

Mary felt her control of the unicorn slip from her grasp as it reared up on to its hind legs. The children ran in terror, and it slammed its front hooves down on the gold painted pavement, letting out what sounded like a scream.

As it shrieked, it seemed to undergo some sort of horrible metamorphosis. The fake fur covering its body rotted away, all in a moment, revealing the metal underneath. The paint began peeling away like old wallpaper, and the mane and tail fell apart, hair by hair, disappearing before they even hit the ground.

The noise of children’s laughter grew silent as the horn fell. It shattered on the ground, breaking apart into a millions pieces that slowly faded into nothingness.

When the voices faded, so did the children themselves. They didn’t leave, no, they simply _faded_.

The unicorn looked up at Mary, completely out of her control.

In an instant, the air turned frigid and angry, whipping at the trees and clawing at the grass. It grabbed hold of the pavement, tearing off bits of it and sending them into the air, where they, as everything else had, faded.

Pain tore through her body. Electricity ripped through every nerve she had, and slashes and cuts were torn into her flesh by invisible knives. A wave of nausea hit her all at once, and all control of her body was torn from her.

She dropped to her knees, having been taken over by some force she couldn’t explain. She closed her eyes, trying just to block it all out, but it wouldn’t work. The pain wouldn’t stop. Her powers faded into nothing but came back a moment later, a thousand times more intense than they had ever been.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer on the bow she had been on before. Instead, she was before the unicorn animatronic, on the now ravaged golden pavement of main street.

Mary’s body stood up without her being in control, and her eyes met the glassy ones of the robot before her.

It smiled. The unicorn smiled and gave her a silent polite nod, and, with that, control of her body was granted to her once again.

“God, I hope this works.” It spoke in a hushed voice that was distinctly feminine, with a tiny hint of panic hidden within it.

With a slow, affectionate blink, it stepped back, and two huge white wings opened from its back. They flapped once before the robot spoke again.

“Listen, to anyone who can hear me, I need you to respond. I don’t care how, but I just need to know you can hear me.” It sighed, pawed at the ground with one hoof, then continued, “Irene, honey, if you can hear this, I’m so sorry. But, trust me, we’re going to rescue you. Everything’s going to be fine, honey. Just, god, I’m sorry.”

As it continued, the voice, as well as its style of speaking, began to sound familiar. Mary could swear she had heard it before, at the initial inauguration, before she got her powers. Still, she couldn’t quite pin it down.

The unicorn opened its mouth to speak once more, but nothing but static entered the air. As everything else had, the unicorn itself began to fade, turning into threads of light that drifted through the air until being grabbed and tossed away by the snarling wind.

With the animatronic gone, the whole park became silent. No more children’s laughter, not even the noise of rustling trees and grass.

Mary felt her heart skip a beat as she heard a crash echo through the park. She spun on her heel, trying her best to identify the source of destruction.

The bow of the ark, where she had been standing not even a minute before, had snapped off of the rest of the ship, and fallen to the ground, shattering as soon as it hit the pavement.

She was surprised, and somewhat off put, to see that, when the bits of broken plaster hit the ground, they didn’t disappear as the others had. Well, they did, but when they were gone, all they left behind was void. It was as if the world around her was a picture, and someone had simply erased part of it.

As if it were a liquid, the void began to spread. It gripped at the hull of the ark and tore at the ground surrounding it, swallowing the plaster and pavement as it went. The darkness crawled to the top of the boat, and kept going, tearing at the sky and devouring the clouds.

Instinctively, Mary found herself stepping backwards, slowly, as if she were trying to back away from some kind of vicious animal.

She barely stopped herself from falling into the abyss. One foot set on the ground, but the ground wasn’t there. In a desperate act of instinctual survivalism, she threw all her weight forwards, landing on the remaining ground in a heap.

Everything was gone. The void had taken the ark, the sky, the ground, everything. All that was left was the ground beneath her, and she could feel that, too, slipping away.

She felt nausea wrack her body again. Needles dug into her skin and claws tore into her throat. She could feel herself fading away, becoming one with the void around her-

Mary Sage awoke.

* * *

 

It seemed like they had been driving for hours when Nadiya turned the car into a narrow, brick alleyway. The sun had long since set, but Remy found that he was nowhere near as tired as the others, or, even tired at all.

He glanced around at the others in the car, though it was hard to see more than their silhouettes with the lack of light shining in through the windows.

Irene, as she almost always was, was asleep, head leaning against the wall and hands twitching every so often. He was pretty sure that Mary was awake, though he couldn’t be entirely positive. She had woken up from some sort of nightmare almost half an hour ago, and had been almost delirious upon waking. He felt somewhat guilty for that, as the nightmare was likely associated with her injuries, injuries that he had caused many of by ramming that Goliath into the wall back at Halleluland.

He felt his foot tap against the floor restlessly, and realized that he had the chance to use some of his pent up energy, now that everyone else was going to sleep.

“Hey, uh, Nadiya, I’m gonna go, run, real quick, uh, I’ll be back.”

He could tell that she was already half asleep by the way she grumbled. “Whatever, don’t die.”

“I’ll try.” And, with that, he shoved open the car door and jumped down to the asphalt below.

The chill of Indiana air pricked at the back of Remy’s neck as he slammed the car door behind him. Petrichor permeated the air, clinging to the brick walls of the alley they had parked the van in.

Remy’s first instinct was to run. Not from anything, not to anything, he just needed to run, but he couldn’t, not here, not in the line of sight of the others. They didn’t need to be worried about him. They had enough to be nervous about.

He ducked out of the alley, inadvertently pressing his side to the brick building and wetting his vest and shirt with the dew of the recent rain.

As if he were enacting some form of heist, he glanced back, making sure that he was out of view of the van, and took off.

He didn’t have superspeed, but he didn’t need it, because he was fucking _fast._ His feet hardly hit the ground as he threw all his weight into moving forward. Cold air filled his lungs, fresh and full, grounding him, but also enveloping him in the bliss of simply going.

Buildings whizzed past him, glowing with half lit signs that he didn’t care to read. In fact, he didn’t really care to look at his surroundings. He didn’t need to. His body navigated for him, sending him around corners and across crosswalks.

Running had always helped him think, and now was no different. With his body occupied, his mind had room to roam.

Remy tried not to think, but he knew that that wouldn’t last, so, instead, he did his best to distract himself.

He ran through lines of code in his mind, trying to remember how he had linked the private SQL database to the password input in such a way that it would be impossible, or at least difficult, to perform an SQL injection.

That didn’t work for long. He couldn’t simply run over the same commands in his mind forever.

Eventually, his mind wandered back to the one thing he didn’t want to think about: his current situation.

He was doing his best to seem the most put together, for the sake of the others. Making jokes about how they’d dumped King Dick and Martine in central park and the Do Shit Fellowship acted as his way of keeping everyone from having a breakdown.

He hoped the others couldn’t tell that it was a facade. If he was being truthful, he was a mess. He was terrified of everything that had happened, and what could happen. Terrified of the invisible force chasing them, the one that could crop up at any time in the form of helicopters and guns and roadblocks.

His thoughts would have continued to spiral if it weren’t for the concrete wall that appeared before him. He had run into a dead end in an alley.

He considered turning around and continuing to run, but quickly decided against it. He didn’t need to have a breakdown in the middle of a small indiana town.

Remy looked up at the wall ahead of him. Straight up, twelve feet, hardly any footholds.

Maybe what he needed to distract him was a challenge.

His eyes drifted to a dusty, closed off window on one side of the alley.

He could do this.

He leaned back a bit, placing his legs so he could shift his weight almost entirely onto the one farther back than the other. He took one more breath of the cold, night air, bent his knees, and jumped.

His hands caught onto the sill of the window, providing him leverage to swing his legs up. He pressed his feet against the concrete, just below the sill, and pushed off, throwing himself into the air. Like a cat turning so that it would land on its feet, he twisted mid air, landing on the roof with a front roll. He righted himself quickly, adrenaline flooding his veins as his body prepared for him to keep running.

He didn’t need to, though. He was calm, finally.

Remy hauled himself to his feet and casually sauntered to the edge of the roof, looking over the small town as he let his heartbeat slow to a calmer pace.

The small town was quite sprawling from the ground, but from a higher vantage point, it was tiny. He didn’t have to squint to see the black van, dormant and dark, but still present in the alley.

It reminded him of his brother’s gym, and the rope climbing exercise situated in it. Whenever Remy climbed it, he would always rest at the top, looking out over the whole gym. He would watch his brother weave his way through one of the obstacle courses below, waving up to him when he skidded to a stop at the end.

_Bad thought, bad thought, Chris._

That was the one thing he had been trying not to think about this whole time, and here he was. He just had to remind himself of his brother.

His brother was probably worried sick at this point. Remy hadn’t exactly been able to check the news recently, but he was sure that they were covering the fall of the fellowship, or at least the destruction of the Berg. His brother, god, he must think Remy was dead.

It was the main reason he had suggested to Nadiya that they go to his home. Sure, being under a roof would be great, but he really just wanted to assure his brother that he was alive.

He looked out over the town again, watching the van.

They, Kardala, and Irene, and Mary, and Nadiya, they were his family now. They may not be related to him by blood, but they were running with him.

He should be at their side, not out here on some rooftop, brooding. If he couldn’t protect his brother, the least he could do was protect them.

For the first time in awhile, he genuinely smiled, and began his run back to the van.

* * *

 

“Sit still, dammit, you’re gonna mess me up.” Nadiya grumbled for what must’ve been the fifth time in the past ten minutes. 

“It’s not my fault that it hurts like hell.” Mary muttered in response, though she made an effort to hold her arm still.

“Well, it’ll hurt a lot more if it gets infected, so  _ sit still. _ ” She practically hissed as she got back to working on stopping a gash in Sage’s arm from bleeding by pressing a towel against it.

It was officially the third day of their journey, and, seeing that they wouldn’t be at Remy’s brother’s home for at least two days, Nadiya decided that she needed to tend to Mary’s wounds before she bled out.

Now, she was remembering why exactly she hadn’t become a doctor.  _ People. _

Mary kept flinching away from her touch, which was getting increasingly frustrating. Still, she was the most medically capable of the group, and they really didn’t need a dead body in the back seat.

She pulled the blood soaked towel away from her arm, satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, and started the process of wrapping the wound in gauze that they had definitely not stolen from a walmart. 

Nadiya’s top lip raised into a grimace as Mary started laughing under her breath. She was  _ not  _ in the mood for her deliriousness right now.

“What's so funny?” She griped instinctively.

“Kardala’s managed to terrify the Mcdonalds cashier.” She responded, seemingly not off put by Nadiya’s standoffish nature.

“You’re watching them?”

“Yeah, why not? Besides, I have to turn the cameras off.”

“Whatever.” She muttered, tying off the bandage as Mary winced again. “Alright, now you won’t die.” 

“Great,” she responded, voice dripping with sarcasm, and brushed her mop of red, curly hair out of her face before sliding off the hood of the car. “By the way, you might want to start the ca—” 

She was interrupted briefly by the sound of lighting crashing down a hundred yards away. “Yeah.”

Of course, they couldn’t get food without causing a scene.  _ Of course.  _ Why couldn’t she just have gone herself?

Well, whatever. At least this wasn’t their final destination. She did her best to ignore the adrenaline trickling through her veins as she swung open the drivers door. She did not need to panic. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t drive when she was panicking because she always just shut down and—

Nadiya threw herself into the driver's seat and slammed the door behind her before grabbing onto the steering wheel like her life depended on it (which it, probably did, but she didn’t want to think about that right now.)

She needed a break from this shit.

* * *

 

Her feet pounded against the concrete below, her heart pounded in her ears, and she could feel her warm breath as it blew back in her face.

Kardala was  _ living. _

She hated being cooped up in that “car,” she hated being told “stop yelling, Kardala, or I’m literally going to crash us into a ditch.” She wanted to run, and here she was, sprinting alongside Remy, the wind blowing in her mass of black hair.

Sure, they may have been running towards the car, but still, the feeling of running was blissful, even for just a minute.

She nearly slipped on the dew-soaked pavement below as she turned a sharp corner into the alley their automobile resided in. Remy charged ahead of her, yanking open the car door for the middle set of seats with all his weight and throwing himself in. Kardala followed suit, tumbling onto the small human in a pile of arms and legs. 

“Kardala, close the damn door, we need to go!” Hissed the demon, Nadiya, from the driver’s seat. Untangling herself from Remy, Kardala grabbed onto the door and slammed it shut, using so much force that the vehicle itself shook.

“Mary?” Questioned Remy, fear pricking at his voice as he quickly locked the car door next to his seat.

“Yeah, the uh, the feds, police, whatever, feds are definitely coming.” Came Mary’s voice from the third and farthest back set of seats.

“Yeah, Nadiya, we need to get out of here, now.” Remy spoke, clumsily righting himself in his seat and pulling the seatbelt across himself.

“No, really?” The driver snarked. The space between the drivers and passengers seats had been torn up the reveal the wiring, and Nadiya was digging through the various cords. She hurriedly pulled two wires from the congealment and touched their ends together. Instantly, the car hummed to life, and she twisted the cords together before throwing them off to the side.

Nadiya shoved her foot down on the petal and the van roared forwards, narrowly missing the curb as it turned onto the narrow road.

_ Kardala. _

**This is my body.**

_ Oh, come on. Do you really want to sit in the car for a day again? _

**I don’t want to be trapped in your prison again.**

_ We agreed that I could handle the, as you called them, boring parts of this body’s existence. I would consider this boring. _

**We didn’t agree on anything.**

_ I’ll let you out as soon as anything interesting happens. _

**I don’t trust that, Baker.**

_ I let you out to go to the terrible clown house, did I not? _

**You, are right about that.**

_ So let me out. Now. _

Kardala felt the soul of Irene Baker stir within her, struggling to gain control, angrily, but not violently. 

**You can’t take over with force. You know that.**

_ Then let me out, and you can have your turn soon. _

That surge of warmth again. She was trying to take over, even though she knew it wouldn’t work. Kardala was a god, far stronger than any mortal.

Still, the longer she kept that mortal locked away, the more she would fight to get out. The rides in this “car” were boring anyway. Unfit for a god.

**You** **_will_ ** **let me out when we leave this vehicle.**

_ Yes. I will. Let me out. _

Her resolve weakened on her command, and that warmth pooled through her nerves as she felt control slipping from her limbs.

Their consciousness flickered briefly. Irene, Kardala, Irene, Kardala, Irene.

Irene took control, and the first thing she heard was sirens.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team takes a road trip that lasts for about five minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never driven a car in my life. I apologize in advance.

The clear, cloudless sky shimmered with beautiful rays of light as the sun reached its highest place in the sky. A light breeze gently tossed leaves on the sidewalks, batting them around like a playful kitten. 

It would’ve been perfectly tranquil, if not for the blaring, ear splitting sirens screaming through the air. 

“Drive, fucking drive!” Yelled Remy as he held onto the seat back in front of him for dear life. 

“What does it look like I’m doing!” The driver, Nadiya, shouted in response, shoving all her weight onto the pedal in a desperate attempt to accelerate the vehicle. “Irene, what’s going on out there?”

The tiny woman from HR scrambled to peer out the window while still holding onto the “oh shit” handle. She visibly tensed as soon as she realized the answer to Nadiya’s question. 

“We’ve got three cars and two ‘coptors on our ass, and they’re gaining ground pretty damn fast!” She yelled over the roar of the engine that was audible within the car. 

The gravel road stretched out before them in a straight line, bordered on either side by seemingly infinite fields of corn and potatoes. The last time they had stopped had been at a smaller town off the interstate. Now, there wasn’t a town for miles, much less a city they could hide in. 

In a moment, everyone went quiet, hearts skipping a beat as a blast of sound shook the air. The glass of the back window shattered as a spray of bullets slammed into it, narrowly missing Mary as she shoved herself against the door reflexively. 

“Yep, they’re trying to kill us!” Shrieked a panicked Remy, leg bouncing on the floor so fast that it was practically a blur. 

A million thoughts ran through Nadiya’s head, each terrifying one leading to another that was ten times worse. 

_ We’re going to run out of gas.  _

_ Is it the fellowship? _

_ What if they shoot out our engine? _

_ What do they want? _

_ Are they trying to kill us? _

_ How did they know we were here? _

The road unfurled endlessly before the car, showing no sign of stopping. There was nowhere for them to hide or even lose their tail. 

“Mary, can you, do anything here, or?” Remy stammered, staring out the window with eyes wide as dinner plates. 

“I, I can try. They're new cars. They've got computers. Let me, uh.” She responded, sounding a lot more down to earth than she had before. 

Her eyes squinted as she concentrated, and, after a moment of everyone holding their breath, the closest car, which was only about twenty yards behind them and was leaps and bounds ahead of the others, stopped in its tracks. It's momentum sent it skidding as the driver desperately tried to maintain control. 

“Hell yeah!” Shouted Remy, fear erased almost entirely from his expression. “You just gotta shut down the rest and, uh, oh.”

Mary’s head was in her hands as she appeared to be fending off a migraine. 

“I, no, I can't do that again. I don't think I can.” She stammered, pain evident in her tone. 

“Shit. Okay, uh. Fuck.”

Nadiya glanced quickly in the rear view mirror. The remaining two cars were gaining on them, both about forty yards behind. The helicopters were slower, maybe seventy yards, but they were getting closer. And they had guns mounted on them. Shit. 

As that thought came to mind, one of the guns sprung to life, sending another spray of bullets that Nadiya swerved out of the way of. 

Immediately after, the other ‘copter sent out a single, almost harpoon-like bullet. Nadiya yanked the wheel to the right, but it wasn't quick enough. The bullet pierced the rubber in a smooth, quick strike. 

Yep. They were all gonna die. 

The car immediately spun out of control as the front tires desperately tried to keep it on course. It was like Mary’s goliath, except this time if they fell, instead of being brought back to the fellowship, they would probably be killed. 

She spun the wheel this way and that, but it didn't do anything. The car veered into the field beside the road, sending corn and dirt flying into the air. 

The car spun onto its roof, then back onto its wheels, where it's momentum wore out. 

“Well, fuck.” Irene stated, voice quivering. 

“We need to run.” Nadiya spoke after taking a deep breath in an attempt to remember she did, in fact, need to keep breathing. 

Remy didn't hesitate. He threw open his car door, which was crumpled like a tin can that had been run over, and leaped out, heartbeat so loud it was practically audible. 

“We’re dead.” His voice was almost deadpan, clearly due to the terror running through him. “There's more.”

As Nadiya struggled her way out, she saw that he was right, even though she wished he wasn't. 

Four cars, each black with tinted windows, were gaining on the two that had been chasing them. Two modified Skimmers followed them close behind, both having the same tinted windows that veiled those inside. 

“It's the fellowship. It's the fellowship and we’re all dead.” Irene stammered. She had only just managed to scramble from the car, and bore a scar across one leg where her pant leg had torn. 

“No.” Was all Nadiya could say as she watched the scene before her. 

The four cars that had just arrived were speeding ahead of the two attackers, which had completely stopped. In a scarily coordinated motion, they created a circle around the two, blocking them in. 

The skimmers chased the helicopters as they seemed to perform evasive maneuvers. These skimmers, though, seemed to be greatly modified, as they immediately shot out several sprays of bullets. The helicopters hardly had time to react as they were sent crashing to the ground, crumpling on impact. 

Suddenly, a voice boomed through the air, causing the three fugitives outside of the car to tense. 

“Stay where you are!” It shouted. “We are not here to hurt you! You need to come with us!”

Yeah. Fuck no. 

“Remy. Get Mary. We back away slowly, and book it.” She said in a stern, unwavering voice, not breaking eye contact with the skimmers that appeared to be staring down at them. 

“Okay.” His voice was calm as he slowly walked forwards, using his enhanced strength to yank open the door to the last set of seats. Instead of opening the way it was meant to, he pulled the, extremely damaged, door completely off. 

Mary seemed uninjured, but required his assistance to get to her feet as she stumbled out of the wrecked car. Nadiya could only assume that the crash worsened her concussion. 

“Okay. We're staying where we are. No movement here.” Nadiya practically yelled in the direction of the skimmers. 

“Thank you.” Responded who they presumed was the pilot of one of the planes. Slowly, as if in an attempt to not scare a wild animal, the two planes descended to the ground. 

The drivers door of the first plane glided open with a slight squeal, though it was difficult to see, as they were in the field, which was lower ground. 

“Everyone can run?” Asked Nadiya, still not breaking eye contact. 

A hum of agreement sounded from the group behind her. 

“Then fucking run.” With that, the scientist turned on the ball of her foot, and ran. 

She shoved corn aside as she bounded, though she was sure leaves were getting caught in her hair as she did so. With the height of the plants, it was impossible to see if her companions were beside her, but she could certainly hear them, as if each had their own little song. 

Ahead of her was Remy, bounding forwards with what was more of a series of jumps than something that could actually described as running. 

Irene took pace close beside Nadiya, her steps heavier than his as her feet actually collided with the ground, unlike Remy, who only let the balls of his feet touch the ground before leaping off again. 

Mary was surprisingly fast, despite being only about 5”3, and definitely having a concussion. Her steps were unsure and stumbling, as if she would fall over at any moment, but she managed to keep her balance against the barrage of plants. 

Then, of course, from behind then, were an indecipherable amount of footsteps. It sounded to be at least four people, all quickly gaining ground on them. 

“Duck!” Came Mary’s voice from slightly ahead of her, and, less than a moment later an engine roared directly ahead of them. 

Nadiya looked up, watching in a mix of amazement and terror as one of the modified skimmers flew overhead, descending quickly into the corn only a few yards ahead. 

She could hear the corn being ripped from the ground before she could see it. She threw herself forwards, forcing her legs to go faster, and, in less than a moment, she emerged in front of the plane. 

It was hardly damaged, but the corn around it had been torn, creating a scar ala Lord of the Flies. The door was wide open, and Remy was already inside, waving his hand in an ushering motion and yelling things that Nadiya’s brain didn't care to decipher. Mary was collapsed in a heap in one of the seats, holding her head in her hands and panting. 

Irene emerged from the corn a moment later, meeting Nadiya’s gaze and yelling something in the vain of “Go, go!”

The scientist shook her head, tearing herself from her trance and sprinting towards the plane. Irene was close on her heels, and as soon as she was inside, Remy shrunk away from the door, and it slammed closed, clearly under Mary’s control. 

“Mary, now!” Remy yelled, eyes wide as he glanced out one of the one-way windows in the side of the skimmer. 

The technomancer took a deep breath, and the plane roared to life, tearing forwards through the corn before gaining altitude. 

“Was it the fellowship?” Irene asked between heaving breaths. 

Mary spoke quietly, almost sounding in disbelief of her own words, “I think we just watched the fellowship,” she hesitated for a moment, “fight the fellowship.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Mary, shut down all electronics in the United States of America.”

The voice made Mary cringe, made her body physically recoil. Her mind was screaming at her, “No, no!”, but she couldn't. She knew what she would be doing, but the gun pressed to her temple demanded it. She didn't have the will to refuse. 

Pain wracked through her body, but it felt oddly distant. She recognized it, recognized that it was pain, that she was in agony, but she didn't feel it. In fact, she couldn't feel anything. 

Mary opened her eyes, just slightly, her vision obscured by her eyelashes but clear enough that she could see where she was. 

The room around her was too dark and too bright, all at the same time. It was cold, far too cold, but a burning warmth throbbed in her head. 

She knew where she was. She wished she didn't. She had tried to tear the memory from her mind, to pass over that point in her past with static. 

It didn't work, and here she was, in the main hub of the Berg, surrounded and in pain and terrified. 

No, no no no no no no no. She didn't want to be back. She could feel that Addison and Flanagan were next to her, feel the force being summoned from Flanagan’s powers, but she couldn't feel the pain she knew would follow. She could feel the cold metal of a gun’s muzzle pressed up against her head, but not the biting pain of it being dug into her flesh. 

It was as if time had stopped. She looked around, vision hazy but still able to make out shapes and silhouettes. 

She could make out the wide, terrified eyes of Richard as Nadiya pressed a knife to his throat, the towering shape of Kardala, and the blur that was Remy as he prepared to leap. But they weren't moving. They simply stood still, as if she was just looking at a photograph. 

“God that, that really didn't go as planned. I can't really blame you though. I wouldn't trust me either if i was in your place.” She didn't recognize the voice. Or, maybe she did. It wasn't Richard, or Martine, or Nadiya or Remy or Irene or Kardala. Not Addison nor Flanagan nor Scully. But it was familiar. High, clearly feminine, with a little hint of hesitation. “I, uh, Irene, Nadiya, Chri-er, Remy, Mary, you need to trust me. Martine knows where you are. You barely escaped last time. You need to trust me, and come back to the fellowship. You all need medical attention. We can help. You need to come with us.”

Mary stood up, unsteady on her own feet, but able to keep her balance. She used the chair to keep herself upright as she looked for the source of the voice. 

Behind her were three desks, one person at each, every one housing a panel that the people seemed to be intent on watching. But these people, unlike Nadiya and Kardala and everyone else, weren't visible. Well, they were, but they weren't people. They were staticky, figures made of flashing bits of black and white. Every once in a while, they would even blink out of existence, just for a moment. 

The sound came from one of these figures, the first one, which appeared to be more of a blob of flashing color than a silhouette. 

“Martine isn't going to stop looking for you. You'll be safe with us. Please, don't fight back. You don't need to be more injured than you already are.” It continued, slowly getting fainter. 

The figure blinked out of view, but this time, it didn't come back. The others stayed for a few more moments, but soon, they too were gone. 

“Martine! You’d-you’d be cutting off power to- to hospitals! And-- and-- and and vehicles and, stoplights and, people depending on technology to live! You’re gonna kill a lot of people, like, that’s not what I want!” Came Richard’s voice, and, with that, Mary Sage awoke. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, but it felt like a natural stopping point.

The low, constant humming of the skimmer’s engine sounded in Remy’s ears as he crouched on the thinly carpeted floor of the cabin. 

A hiss of pain escaped Irene’s lips as he began wrapping a new strip of gauze along the top of the gash in her leg. As soon as it pressed against the wound, scarlet bled through the cotton, though the gauze managed to keep it from running down her leg and trickling to the carpet. 

“Good?” The woman asked, clearly clenching her teeth in pain. 

“Well, uh, I mean, you’re the one who was in humanities, does it look alright?” Remy responded as he tightened the strip and pressed it against itself, finishing the wrapping. 

“Yeah, yeah that’s, probably good. Thanks.”

Remy stood up, stretching his arms into the air and feeling his joints pop slightly. 

They’d been in the air for probably around an hour, now. They’d been keeping over cornfields and pastures, keeping away from anywhere where someone might see them. 

Nadiya had taken the helm, claiming that it ‘couldn't much different than driving,’ and, apparently it wasn’t, as she hadn’t crashed yet. After destroying every piece of tech in the cockpit that could be used to track them, Mary had gone unconscious. 

Remy flopped down in the seat next to Irene, resting his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, doing his best to calm down as he listened to the hum of the engine and the, wait, crackling of electricity?

His eyes flew open as he assumed the worst. Something was wrong with the plane, a circuit broke, they were going to crash! The thoughts ran through his mind as he jumped to his feet. 

He swiveled around, searching for the source of the sound, but he didn’t see anything. No sparks jumping into the air. Nothing. Except, uh, Mary?

The redhead was sitting in the row of seats across from them, hair raising and waving like a ball of lightning. Her shoulders were tensed and eyes screwed shut, as if she were trying to block something out by not looking at it. 

“Uh, Mary?” Remy’s worried gaze met Irene's, which bore the same expression. 

The energy grew and grew, crescendoing to the point where her hair was no more than a red blur, before simply stopping. 

All at once, the red mop simply, dropped, as if nothing had happened, and Mary Sage awoke. 

Her muddy hazel eyes sprung open, wide and terrified, but filled with an element of pure confusion. She sat there for a moment, simply making sure of her place in the world, before shaking her head and looking up. 

She met Remy’s gaze, and, instantly, the confusion took a backdrop to the terror in her gaze. The technomancer’s gaze looked rapidly around the cabin, seemingly searching for some kind of hidden enemy. 

After frantically searching the whole room, she met his eyes again, asking, with a fear pricking in her voice, “What? What’s happening?”

Remy wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. He stammered in a hurried response, “Um, you had a fucking seizure?”

Mary raised an eyebrow in confusion, then shook her head. “I, It was just a dr-, er, probably a nightmare actually.”

“Alright, uh, you good?”

“Yeah, j, just a dream.” She sounded to be stammering, but it was quite clear that she was tripping over her own words. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. In an attempt to distract himself from the awkward conversation, Remy turned his body to the tinted windows behind him. 

The landscape below seemed to have melded from the delicate yellows and greens of the country to that of a sparse, slightly shabby suburb. It was early afternoon now, maybe around noon, and the yawning, orange colors of the landscape had disappeared since the chase. 

He was knocked from his sightseeing by a brief noise that reminded him of the insistent, jarring screech of an alarm clock. Instinctively, he startled, shrinking down slightly. While he was still trying to figure out if he was just hearing things, it sounded again, this time more like a blaring trumpet.

“Nadiya!” Remy shouted, hoping that the cockpit wasn’t soundproof. “I think you broke the damn plane!”

Muffled by the door but still distinctly dripping with sarcastic venom, Nadiya responded: “No. We’re just out of fuel.”

“And this, isn’t a problem?” Remy’s voice was beginning to rise in tone out of panic. 

“It’s a plane. It has wings, Rembrandt. I’ll just land in some, frickin, that forest over there should be fine.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, now without the venom, “Irene?”

“Yeah?” Came the soft voice of the woman sitting behind him. She sounded oddly exhausted. 

“Can you walk?”

Irene experimentally put weight on the injured leg, wincing slightly as she did so, but finding it alright after trying once more.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s, good, yeah we’re, gonna have to walk. At least until we can get another car.” She responded as the plane began a slow descent. Remy felt his stomach drop slightly as the nose tipped downwards, and the vehicle hiccuped slightly as it adjusted for the change in air flow on its wings.

He turned back around, flopping back into his seat casually, though there was a certain tenseness held in his shoulders. He hadn’t been able to shake it since, well, since the incident with King Richard. He wasn’t entirely sure what the feeling was. Anxiety, worry, just, fear of this looming threat that they now knew was actually real, and truly dangerous.

The IT specialist scratched at his temple lightly, digging his nail into his skin, just slightly, as he looked up at the windows on the opposite side of the plane, behind Mary.

The clouds slowly gave way to a clear, blue sky as the plane moved lower and lower to the ground.

Remy’s stomach lurched again as a flash of red and yellow covered the window and the plane seemed to be knocked off balance. He could hear a string of obscenities come from the cockpit as the vehicle was twisted left and right.

He scrabbled at the seats of the skimmer, desperately trying to find a handhold. It was no use, however, as the skimmer twisted again and he was thrown to the ground. His side was slammed into the thin carpet, sending a stab of pain through his body that was quickly overshadowed by a flood of adrenaline. Quickly, as soon as he hit the ground, he was tossed into the air, then flung into the front of the seats. He could hardly think, but he instinctively shot out a hand and managed to stick his hand between the edge of two seats. He sunk his fingers into the fabric, using his hand as leverage to pull himself into a vague imitation of a sitting position. 

The plane rocked and twisted once more before a tremor was sent through it, tossing Remy into the air and yanking his wrist into a painful position for a moment.

The vehicle slowly lost momentum before stopping completely, sending an odd sense of panicked calm through the cabin.

Remy convinced himself to open his eyes, and he did, slowly, gasping for breath all the while.

The cabin looked, relatively, undamaged at first glance. The floor was still flat, the seats still there.

Oh.

Half the plane was gone.

The wall of the plane opposite him was completely gone, looking like it had been yanked off by some great force. The edges of the rip were jagged and uneven, littered with sharp edges  where said great force had gotten the better of them. The destruction seemed to only affect the cabin, however, leaving the cockpit still whole, at least from what he could see.

Mary was crumpled in a heap, one hand grasped into the carpet and the other gripped into her hair. Her breaths were shallow and labored, and she was visibly trembling with every rise and fall of her chest. 

Irene was next to Remy, grabbing onto the back of the seat for dear life. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and brimming with tears.

She met his terrified gaze, and the two staring at each other in breathless, abject horror until they were interrupted by the noise of a door swinging open.

The door to the cockpit was thrown open, slamming against the wall and shaking the entire skimmer with sheer vigor. Nadiya rushed through, eyes wide and shoulders taut. 

Her mouth opened like she was about to say something, but Remy could see her knees growing weak and, a moment later, she collapsed.

Nadiya fell to her knees, shivering with each shallow, panicked breath. She shoved her hands into her black hair, forcing pressure onto her temples.

“I crashed the fucking plane, I crashed the fucking plane, I, fuckin, plane-” She stammered, tears welling up in her eyes and spilling over as she clawed at her hair, seemingly looking for a grip of some sort.

“N-Nadi? Iya?” Remy responded. He had never exactly been good at comforting people, especially not when he, too, was panicking.

She didn’t seem to respond, continuing her broken record stuttering. 

Irene was the first to move, or, really do anything. On unsteady, stumbling legs, she took the few steps towards Nadiya and crouched down next to her, legs shaking under the pure effort.

She hesitated slightly before placing one hand on her back, and wrapping the other around to her shoulder, so that the two hands were almost touching. 

“Nadiya? Nadiya. You need to calm down, alright? No one is hurt. No one cares that you fucked up the fellowship’s plane. Serves em’ right. Can you take a deep breath for me, Nadiya?” Irene coaxed.

Remy started to step towards them, but stopped himself. The last thing Nadiya needed right now was to be crowded. Instead, he stood up and busied himself with helping Mary, who was beginning to move from her semi-bracing position, to the seats still left inside the plane.

He moved his focus back to the two women as he let Mary shift her weight from him to the seat. Irene had hooked an arm under Nadiya’s shoulder and was slowly raising to her feet, letting the scientist go at her own pace as she righted herself. The look of pain on the shorter woman’s face was evident, but she didn’t wince as Nadiya put her weight on her.

Irene looked up at Remy, sending a message of “come on” with a nod.

Nadiya muttered, voice still choked up, but with a hell of a lot more clarity, “Let’s, go get another car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled: Nadiya crashes another vehicle


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene drives. Nadiya gets some well deserved rest.

“ _Fucking Martine_.”

The car’s suspension shook as it backed off of a curb, rattling the interior. Irene, who had taken driving responsibilities after insisting Nadiya take a nap, gave a light grunt as she turned the corner, successfully this time.

Remy chuckled, shaking his head and looking at the redhead in the passenger's seat, who was diagonal to him, as he was sat behind the driver's seat.

“What is this, the new, what was it, uh, you remember, like, 2013, thanks Vanderwaal. That was the 44th president, right?”

“Yeah, god,” Mary chuckled, “I remember that. Guess this is like that.”

“Yeah, thanks Martine. That would, thanks Richard? Would that work?”

“I mean, I guess? He didn’t really, do anything.”

“Did you ever, like, see him?”

“What? No, not, not really? Mostly just, like, Martine. Saw her a lot.”

“Well that sucks ass. She’s, well, _Martine_.”

Mary laughed quietly. “Yeah, yeah, guess so.”

Remy looked out the window of the car, watching the city speed by beside him. The sun had long since set, and the only light in the vehicle came from the various glowing buttons on the dashboard.

He could still feel the remnants of what could’ve been frostbite nipping at his skin. They had ended up wandering around Chicago for what must’ve been three hours, at least, before finally stealing an uninhabited Honda and continuing on their journey.

Remy hesitated for a moment, before piping up. “Hey, Mary?”

“Yeah?”

“About Martine, uh, with the planes, do you think that was her?”

“Like, actually in the plane, or like, her forces, or?”

“I mean, either.”

“She’s, well, she’s a pussy. She wouldn’t go into battle herself. At least, I mean, I don’t think so. Strategy reasons or something. But, like, those being her forces? I can only assume so. But they, did attack themselves?”

“Maybe like, a mutiny?”

“If it was they wouldn’t be attacking us.”

“True, yeah.”

Nadiya shifted in her seat, muttering something. As soon as she had gotten the opportunity to sleep, she’d been out like a light.

There was a brief moment of silence before Irene spoke up. “We don't know, how much of the fellowship knew about Richard and his shit. Might've just been, like, Martine, and, what were their names? The, Mary, uh, ones you received your powers with?”

“Addison and Flanagan?”

“Yeah yeah yeah. They knew, and, Grey, and Jamie, and Sylvane and Lid.”

“You're saying some might've rebelled?” Remy questioned.

“I mean, maybe. Either that or it's the feds, though whether they're looking for us or Martine, I've no idea.”

“I doubt there was a rebellion.” Mary chimed in. “I wouldn't trust the fellowship as far I could throw ‘em.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I mean, like, normally the people who rebel are, like, the good guys. Like, hunger games, district thirteen stuff? I'm just sayin’, I don't consider anyone in the fellowship to be a, well, good guy, protagonist, whatever.”

“That’s, I mean, that’s how it is in fiction, but, I guess truth is stranger than fiction? I don’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re, probably right. But more, more people than just, those at the whole, broadcast. More than that knew.”

“We’re we like, the only ones that didn’t?”

“Dunno. But, the, the scientists, certainly knew. A lot of the R&D part.”

“Weren’t you in, uh, diplomatics?”

“Yeah, but the, scientists, like, I didn’t just get powers and leave? They wanted to do their, science and whatever. Well, Martine wanted them to.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, uh, yeah. So they knew. About the whole king of America thing.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Nadiya shifted in her seat, shaking her head so that her ponytail lashed back and forth.

“Rembrandt, turn off, turn off that fucking buzzing.” She muttered, clearly half asleep.

Remy pricked his ears, trying to listen for the buzzing she was speaking of. He couldn’t hear anything over the rumble of the engine and the bouncing of the suspension, except for-

The low crackling of sparks filled the air, and, after looking around for a few moments, he realized that, Mary Sage had fallen into a nightmare.

 

* * *

 

The last threads of summer heat needled their way through the dense forest lining either side of the trodden dirt path as the chill of autumn wafted through the canopy.

Condensation billowed from Mary Sage’s lips before being quickly wafted away by the trickles of warm air. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, and the wind whipped at her mop of red hair, but she continued on. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done this before.

Had she?

Her mind told her that the forest was familiar, yet she couldn’t remember a single tree, fallen nor standing. She had no memory of this place, but her mind was telling her that she knew every step of this path.

“No, no, wait wait wait wait.” Mary stopped in her tracks, looking behind her in an attempt to find the source of the voice.

The trees rustled erratically, shaking like the flapping of a bird's wings, and, a mere moment later, a feathery body emerged from the foliage, shaking its wings like it was unsure of how to fly, but still got airborne anyway.

“Wait, Wait, Wait. You can do this, Jonesy. You can do this. Just a shorter one, you got this.”

A thought appeared in the forefront of Mary’s mind. Not one that she created, no, and not a string of ideas like a normal thought, either. It was a clear, solid sentence.

“I can do this.”

It wasn’t her voice. It was firm, determined, with an odd hint of a Dutch accent.

“Okay, alright.” The cream-and-white bird fluttered down from the canopy it had emerged from. It’s form was, unclear. It had the shape of a bird, with a round, feathered body, long tail feathers, and lithe wings, but it didn’t resemble a dove nor a cockatiel nor any specific type of avian.

“I don’t know if these messages are sending, just,” The bird dropped to be in front of her, flapping its wings in slow, steady rhythm, so as to stay hovering. It opened its beak to continue speaking, but nothing would come out but defeating silence. Even the light rustle of the canopy was gone, replaced with the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

Mary took a step back, then another, looking around the forest in panic. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in the car with Nadiya, and, and Irene, and Remy. Not here!

The trees around her began distorting, twisting and blurring like someone was grabbing at them in photoshop. She stumbled, bile rising in her throat, watching as the bird ahead of her flickered in and out of existence.

Liquid terror ran through her veins, and her mind screamed for her to run, just get out of there, but she couldn’t.

Her legs grew weak and her knees buckled, and, as soon as her palms hit the dirt, Mary Sage awoke.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya drives some more. Kardala tries to fight. Remy takes a tumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of guns and bullets, description of gunfire.

“I’m going myself.” Spoke a firm female voice that was tinted with exhaustion and worry.

“You know that’s too dangerous.” Spoke another, this one tinged with the softest hint of a Dutch accent.

“This whole thing is dangerous, Lior. Just the frosting on the disaster cake.”

“It’s my job anyway. If anything, I should go.”

“I can’t risk losing you!”

“It’s a rescue mission, not a hostage situation!”

“We’re still dealing with Martine, regardless of what it is. It’s a risk just to be out there.”

“Well, put yourself at risk if you want to. I’m not letting Irene get herself killed out there.”

“If you’re going, so am I.”

“And if neither of us come back?”

“Then we both know that Ora and Fanny are more competent than us.”

“True. Very true.”

* * *

 

“I HAVE COME TO DEFEAT THE IRON BIRD!” Boomed Kardala, voice practically shaking the vehicle.

A groan erupted from Nadiya and Mary as Irene’s form changed to that of the thunder goddess. The car grumbled under the new distribution of weight, the suspension creaking.

“We left the plane behind two states ago.” The technomancer grumbled, moving her seat forward.

“Ey, Dala!” Interjected Remy, shaking himself from his dazedly trance.

“Little man!”

Nadiya tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles growing white. The afternoon sun was blindingly bright, even though they were headed west.

Her gaze was drawn to the side at the sudden movement of Mary snapping her palms to her temples. Her hair rose slightly, and the radio clicked on, deafeningly loud, but only for a second, before it shut back off.

The redhead’s hands slowly lowered from her temples, and she shook her head like a dog shaking water from its fur.

“Migraine.” She muttered in explanation to Remy, whose wide-eyed gaze was locked on her.

Even after the radio was turned off, a barely audible buzzing permeated the car, like that of an old projector.

Remy turned back to Kardala after that, and launched into an explanation of everything that had happened over the last day: the car chase, the plane crash, the freezing walk through Chicago, and how they had acquired their current mode of transportation.

“Where are we going anyway?” Mary asked as he was about halfway through his thrilling retelling of the chase, though she was looking out the window and not facing Nadiya.

“Remy’s brothers house. He suggested it when you were, uh, asleep.”

“Having a seizure?”

“Yeah.”

With that, the two fell into silence. Nadiya lost herself in the road, letting her mind be completely consumed by the mundanity of a road trip.

The road stretched out before her in a straight line, bordered on either side by seemingly infinite fields of corn and potatoes, broken up by the occasional farm, factory, or small town. As the hours passed and the sun began to set, storm clouds gathered in congealed clusters, sparsely dotting the sky’s countenance like freckles, though not promising rain.

The buzzing continued, growing louder until it crescendoed to the point where it was nigh-impossible to ignore.

Nadiya found herself dozing off, eyes unfocused as she slumped over the steering wheel. She considered asking someone else to drive, but, no she had to keep goi-

“Uh, Nadiya?” Remy’s voice was tinged with panic.

“Drive, drive drive drive drive drive!” Mary shouted, tips of her hair beginning to slither.

She was instantly awoken from her daze, instinctively shoving her foot down on the gas pedal until it slammed metal. She hardly retained control of the vehicle as its speed increased threefold.

“The iron chariots return!” Kardala shouted.

She looked in the rear view mirror and-

Oh shit.

Five pairs of headlights glared back at her. A cacophony of growling engines screeched behind them as the five cars sped up in pursuit.

Nadiya turned her gaze back to the windshield, stomping on the pedal as if it would make the car go faster.

“Swerve! Swerve!” Shouted Remy. She had no time to look, she just yanked the steering wheel to the side. The car went on two wheels for a split second as it veered out of the way of a bullet.

She was forced to shove her eyes closed as bright lights shone at her from ahead, too. For a moment she thought they were just reflections, until she opened her eyes again.

Two cars were ahead of her, horizontally placed on the road, headlights to headlights, acting as an improvisational roadblock.

Out of pure instinct and fear, Nadiya slammed her foot on the brakes. She was sure that sparks shot out from between the tires and the road from the sheer amount of friction.

She stared ahead of her like a deer in headlights, terror completely paralyzing her. The cars behind got closer, closer, until they stopped only feet behind them.

For one of the first times in her life, Nadiya Jones didn’t know what to do.

* * *

 

Mary’s head throbbed as adrenaline ran through her veins. Her mouth tasted of the metallic tang of blood, and her vision grew hazy.

She was suddenly hyper aware of every piece of technology around her, able to hear its subtle signature. The cellular signal of someone’s phone, the constant communication between a car’s computer and its engine.

Specifically, the communication between the engine and the computer of the car she and the others were in.

Nadiya may not be able to drive anymore, but there was no way she was giving the fuck up. She had escaped the fellowship twice now, and she wasn’t about to have to escape their clutches another time.

A stab of pain shot through her mind as she took control of the computer, but that didn’t matter right now. She shoved the agony to the back of her mind as she tried desperately to gain control of the engine, but, no matter how much effort she forced out of herself, it was as if there was nothing to gain control of.

“Run run run run! Just fucking run!” Nadiya’s scream forced her back to reality, and her eyes shot open.

Remy and Kardala’s doors were already open, and they had flung themselves in opposite directions. By the time Nadiya was done speaking, she too had thrown her door open, and was leaping out.

Mary followed their lead, yanking at the door handle with way more force than was needed and throwing herself into the fray.

She heaved for breath for a moment as she took in the scene around her.

Two cars were stopped ahead of them, bumper to bumper, with three more stopped behind it in a loose pyramid formation. Behind them were three cars stopped in a horizontal line, all of which were shining their headlights into the dusk. However, the cars were unmoving, despite their threatening presence, like cats ready to pounce.

The true threat were the swarms of people emerging from them.

There must’ve been at least twenty five, if not thirty. Despite having materialized from sleek, black cars with tinted windows, they seemed to be in, relatively plain clothes. They wore loose fitting, black pants, combat boots ranging from taupe to pitch, and shirts in a wide array of colors that were all relatively dark. The only constant about them was the vests they wore, which appeared to be bulletproof, as well as littered with pockets, and, of course, the guns they carried.

Her legs froze for a moment before fight or flight kicked in. Quickly, she analyzed what escape routes were possible.

Beside and behind her had already been taken over by the plain clothed soldiers, and she wasn't about to run into that fray, so, it seemed that the only way to go was forward.

Ahead of her stood a cornfield that sprawled on for what appeared to be a fourth of a mile before dissolving into a dense wood.

Mary threw herself forwards, hardly able to keep her balance. She was at the end of the road in seven strides, and she forced herself to block out the footsteps of those behind her as she leaped the steep, five foot drop from road to cornfield. She collapsed in a heap as shock waves ripped at her legs, though she quickly leaped to her feet, not stopping to heave for breath as she prepared to run forward-

As soon as she opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of three cars, all the same model, all with black surfaces and windows that appeared to be one-way, not allowing her to see anything inside. By the time this registered in her mind, their doors had already sprung open, and people were pouring out.

These were, surely not the same soldiers she had seen on the road. They wore all black, with thick vests and pads on their knees and elbows. Their eyes were obscured by visors that were held on by thin, black helmets.

The most notable feature was that their hair was all either grey, white, or black, unlike the soldiers on the road, who had the variation of hair colors you would expect in a normal crowd.

She didn’t have time to ponder this though, as the soldiers started yelling, crosstalking over each other to the point where she couldn’t understand a single one.

Instinctively, Mary took a step back, breath catching in her throat. Her eyes scanned the guns being drawn at her, the people surrounding her, her brain screaming, telling to her to have any reaction, to just run, but her body wouldn’t respond.

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see a swarm of plain clothed soldiers charging in from the west, shouting, but her ears didn’t register a word.

They ran in, guns drawn, threatening the greyscale haired soldiers, trying to shove them back. Two broke off from the group, running at her, holstering their pistols.

As they each grabbed her, one holding up each arm, her body seemed to finally respond. Mary wrestled with them, not trying to fight back, just trying to get them to release her grasp. Maybe, maybe, now that other soldiers were distracted, she could make a run for it.

She felt a buzzing in the back of her mind, and, a moment later, Mary Sage fell into a nightmare.

 

By the time Nadiya had stopped the car, Remy had already reached for the door handle. Ten seconds after that, his feet were on the asphalt.

He closed his eyes, letting all his focus go into his feet as they pounded against solid ground. He could hear, practically sense, people swarming around him, but he didn’t _care._ He needed to get out of here, now.

His forward ascent was stopped in a swift moment as someone grabbed him by the arm, wrapping a strong arm across his chest.

Remy’s momentum was stopped in a second, but his will summoned from sheer force of fear wasn’t. He forced the limb from his chest with the arm pinned to his side, tearing forwards with enough speed to relieve his shoulder of the grasp on it.

He leaped from the road to the field below, landing in a roll and getting up without missing a beat. He kept on, legs tearing through soybean plants that gripped at his pant legs, just wanting, _needing_ , to get out of there.

Pain shot through his body as something heavy collided with his shins. He had no chance to regain his footing as he was sent sprawling to the ground, dirt spraying into the air around him.

As he skidded to a stop, face in the dirt, he felt a foot firmly plant on his back, and three sharp pains in his back, one after another. His hands struggled for purchase on the ground, and, when he couldn’t find it, he decided that just forcing this fucker off his back and getting up wouldn’t be enough. He was going to have to go berserk.

Remy threw all his weight to one side of his body, rolling over and practically sliding out from under the offending force between his shoulder blades. He placed his hands on the ground and began to push to move his body upwards, so that he could get into a standing position and continue his fleeing, but, as soon as he put his weight on his arms, they gave out.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and, even as he tried to fight through it, his vision grew hazy, and blackened around the edges.

He collapsed in a heap, barely having the energy to expend on just breathing and, a few moments later, Remy fell unconscious.

* * *

 

Kardala was not one to retreat. She would stay for a fight, no matter how impossible.

Though Irene begged for it to be, this was no exception.

Thunder crackled above, the sky turning dark with a cluster of clouds congealing together into one solid mass, as the goddess leaped from the iron chariot and into what would soon be a site of another victory for her.

Almost immediately, a sharp pain stabbed into her arm. Though unphased (of course, she was a goddess), she looked down to see what it was, out of, curiosity, more than anything.

Ha! The humans were trying to kill her with, what, darts with bright red feathers? It would take more than that to phase her.

A series of the pricks were sent up her other arm as she stalked forwards, scanning her surroundings. Swarms of humans ran around, all seeming to stream towards three different points, well, four, if she counted herself.

At least six people had sprinted at her, all armed with blocks of metal formed into intricate, peculiar shapes.

The first to reach her slammed his weapon into her arms as she raised them. They grappled, but only for a moment, before her obviously superior strength won out, and he was sent stumbling to the side.

Another quickly followed his defeat compatriot, but she, too, was thrown to the ground who hardly any effort.

_Run._

**This is not the time for this, prison. This is a noble fight I will win. The mighty Kardala does not flee from battle**

_Run. Now._

Run? Like she would flee from noble battle! This was a fight she would win, without effort, eve-

Kardala fell in an unceremonial heap on the ground, unconscious.

 

Nadiya had always found it easy to discern between dream and reality. No, she hadn’t found some secret room in her house, no, she didn’t have a pet bird. She could always tell when her subconscious was just fucking with her.

This was, an exception to that rule, to say that least.

Nadiya threw herself from the car, heartbeat audible as blood pounded in her ears. An odd, cold feeling ran up her arms as her fingers extended and her nails grew into long, curled claws.

She started to run, prepared to fight but not necessarily wishing to. A sharp, piercing pain shot through her shoulder, but she ignored it. She needed to get out of here _now_. She could deal with wounds later.The world blurred by around her as she closed her eyes, trying to block it out, if she could only just run-

Nadiya crashed, head on, into _something._ She opened her eyes, only to be met with a face, just as surprised as she was, only a foot from hers.

Instantly, she backpedaled, brandishing her fingers-turned-claws as if she actually knew how to use them.

She looked around, scanning the situation, seeing if there was some way, any way, she could just _get away._

A circle of people, all possessing vastly different appearances, except for the vests they wore, had formed around her. There was no escape, no gap, she was trapped, she was trapped, _she was trapped._

“Hold your fire.” Spoke a firm female voice that stuck out amongst all the others. “Defend.”

The circle seemed to obey without hesitation. They turned to face the other way, all except for one.

A woman stood directly in front of Nadiya. She was of, average height, not taller than her, but hardly shorter. Her shoulder-length hair was silver, though clearly dyed, and she had bright blue eyes the color of the sky.

Well, eye.

One of her eyes was fully functional, while the other was, well, not visible.

Half of the woman’s face was covered in a wrapping of bandages, spanning from under one ear to the top of her head, covering her eye, or, where it should be.

She wore clothes similar to the rest of the soldiers. A grey shirt covered in a black vest, loose-fitting grey pants, and combat boots, though, unlike the others, she wore a belt, that held a holstered pistol.  
She seemed, oddly familiar, like a personified sense of deja vu.

The silver haired woman took a step forwards before reaching for the gun on her belt. Nadiya braced herself to try to duck out of the way of the bullet, but, the sound of a blast never came. Instead, the woman dropped the gun to the ground with a clatter.

“Nadiya. I’m glad to see you, safe.”

This woman, knew her name? Nadiya certainly didn’t know hers. She hardly even recognize her, much less was she able to put a name to a face.

She began to approach, but there was loud crackling of gunfire, and the woman turned away, grabbing her gun from the ground.

“God, honey, I’m so sorry.” She turned to Nadiya, raising the gun in her direction, and pulled the trigger, thrice.

She expected bullets. Bullets that would rip and tear into her flesh.

So, she was, surprised, when three tranquilizer darts landed in her arm.

Her first instinct was panic, of course. Going against everything scientific she had ever learned, Nadiya ripped out the darts, gasping for breath in her terror.

The circle around her began to break up, everyone running in different directions and shouting, except for another woman.

She was short, almost scarily pale, with messy white hair, but that was all Nadiya saw of her, before she was two feet from her.

She did a double take. Yeah, this woman had just traversed about ten feet in one step. Okay.

She questioned if she was dreaming, but the panic of her vision growing hazy shoved this thought to the back of her mind.

The white haired woman looked up at her, holding her gun across her chest but having a clear intent not to fire it.

“Sit down. You’ll fall and hit your head, and Fawn already has enough shit on her plate.” She spoke, voice insincere but not hostile.

Nadiya knew enough about tranquilizers to know that this was probably a good idea. She sat down, trembling, and let unconsciousness wash over her.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya wakes up. Remy has a realization. Irene remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: mention of the smell of bleach

Remy was not a morning person. He never had been, and likely never would be. So what if the sun was already above the horizon, he was staying in bed. Fuck you, nature.

That was, not exactly the case, this particular awakening.

He awoke with a start, heart going from 10 to 60 in a moment.

His eyes sprung open, scanning the room around him for danger. He couldn’t remember what had caused him to fall asleep, nor anything before it, but something bad had happened, and his primal responses were on full alert.

The room he was in was far too small. The walls each only extended about five feet from where he stood in the center. It was impossible to tell the material they were made of from a glance, or even a stare. They reflected the light from the single LED bulb in the ceiling like a rubber tire would, but seemed solid, and had no divisions between blanks like wood.

As soon as his brain had registered that he was trapped in a tiny, windowless room, with no exit other than a thick, steel door, with no handle on the inside, he _ran._

There was nowhere to run, he knew that, but it was the only way his fight or flight response knew to do.

So, he ran.

Remy launched himself at the wall, shooting to leap at the door and land on it in a rather cat-like manner, but, the extra spring in his step he had been getting used to over the past week was absent, and he undershot, landing on the floor on his side, skidding to a stop.

_His powers_.

The extra boost of energy, the extra strength in his muscles, was gone. His first instinct was, once again, panic. His powers were what allowed him to fight, and run, and-

The rational part of his mind kicked in.

If his powers were gone, that meant that he wasn’t with his team.

He stopped preparing to leap at the door again, instead examining the room he was in again.

Continuous, rubbery black walls. Ten feet wide, ten feet long, maybe around eight feet tall. A small, metal-framed bed was shoved in the corner, topped with a thin mattress and sheet. If the presumable exit was north, then the second door was on the west wall. It was simple, made of some sort of metal that appeared to be almost plastic-like in texture, with a handle, unlike the other door.

Remy had seen enough movies to know that this was a prison cell.

Instinctively, he shoved his hand in his pocket, looking for his phone, until he realized he didn’t have a pocket.

He shoved open the door that had a handle, entering a smaller, brighter room, with two LED lights illuminating it. As he expected, it was a bathroom.

He closed the door behind him so he could fully see himself in the mirror, and, despite it being what he expected, he was still somewhat taken aback,

Remy was dressed in a loose fitting, grey cotton shirt and pants, both of which seemed just a size too big. That was, surprising, of course, but not as surprising as the other change to his appearance.

His ears, which were just barely not covered by his hair, were each adorned with, odd looking earrings. They were triangular in shape, curling around the helixes and connecting in the bit of cartilage below them. They appeared metal, a silvery color, though the connector pieces were a dark grey that bordered on black. Three adorned each ear, each about the size of the pad of his thumb.

Instinctively, he attempted to tear them off. Maybe they were just clips of some sort. His ears aren't pierced, so there was no way they were actually going through the cartilage.

As soon as he tugged on one of the triangles, pain shot through him, to the point where his knees felt weak and a shiver ran up his spine.

Not only was the piece going through his ear, the hole was at least as big as a pill.

His breathes grew shaky at the realization. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening.

Half-stumbling, Remy made his way to the bed. He laid down, trembling, breathing shallow, and pulled the sheet over his body.

Maybe, if he just hid long enough, it would all disappear.

* * *

  


Nadiya was used to the slightly unpleasant tang of bleach and chemicals. It had become a smell that stuck to her lab coat and trailed through her home. She no longer wrinkled her nose at it, no longer even noticed it, her brain adjusting to it like a slightly unpleasant perfume.

However, the sterility of a lab was not something one was often abject to the scent of when they were on a panicked cross country road trip.

When Nadiya awoke, her mind was, foggy. Every vague thought that formed in her head was quickly washed away by the waves of half-sleep. She could feel her body, feel the slight numbness in the tips of her fingers, but they wouldn’t respond to any attempt to move them.

As her senses began to clear, she became aware of a brisk, steady beeping sound that she could feel in her chest, as if they were being played through a great subwoofer, despite their relatively quiet, unobtrusive volume.  

Her eyelids felt to be made of lead, but she opened them out of sheer force of will, though no amount of effort would clear the haze from her vision.

All she could see, was white. An endless, unbroken sea of it.

Nadiya blinked once, then again, closing her eyes. She just needed to rest them, for a few more minutes, she was so tired…

 

* * *

 

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

The phrase repeated itself over and over again in Irene's mind as she paced back and forth, back and forth, heart pounding as she stared at the black, rubbery ground below her feet.

The room was small, too small, the walls practically closing in on her. But she couldn’t panic, because her team was probably already terrified. She had to be the voice of reason here. If only she could actually find her team.

This was the issue at the forefront of her conscious, but at the back of her mind was the gaping hole of, what she knew to be kardala. Since she had received her powers, the goddess had been an ever present force in her mind, but now, she was simply gone.

Irene was awoken from her trance by the clattering of metal. She raised her gaze to the door, seeing that, it had been opened.

Her instincts saw a chance for escape, but the rational side of her brain forced her not to go for it. She was a prisoner, the locked door and odd earrings told her that much, and that meant that any attempt to get out could result in injury.

Instead, she waited, calmly, as a person stepped through, shoving the door aside with their shoulder.

They appeared to be female, with silver hair in a messy bob cut. They wore a sleek, grey, uniform top, with a high collar and a zipper that was pulled almost entirely up. It was reminiscent of something a character might wear in a space opera, and covered up mostly with what appeared to be a protective vest of some sort.

In their hands was a bowl full of what appeared to be a soup of some sort. They met Irene’s gaze, and seemed taken aback slightly, as if startled by her presence.

“Oh. You woke up.” They spoke, already looking to be backing away.

Irene stepped forward, sensing their apprehension.

“Hello.” She spoke, though keeping her calm demeanor and soft voice.

“Oh. You’re, uh. Ok.” Hastily, they shoved the bowl into her hands, sending a small splash of the liquid it contained onto her light grey cotton shirt. Before Irene had time to register what had happened, the woman had left the room, slamming and locking the steel door behind her.

Okay. So at least they were feeding her.

She could swear she had seen that woman before. She racked her brain, trying to remember.

_Dagney_.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy speaks to an old acquaintance. Irene attacks. Mary wakes up.

Remy had never been, the best, at telling the time from his internal clock. In fact, he didn’t really have much of an internal clock at all. He mostly relied on the everpresent digital clock in the corner of his computer screen to tell whether it was day or night.

So, now, in this windowless room, he had no idea what time it was, or even how long he’d been there.

All he knew was that, sometimes, on what seemed to be a constant schedule, a tray of food would slip through a small, rectangular slot in the steel door. He had tried, every time, to speak to, what he assumed was a guard, but there was never any response.

At this point, though, he almost looked forward to it. It was, really, the only time he had to even pretend he was interacting with another person. Self described, Remy was an extrovert. He was always talking to other people, or, at least he wanted to be.

Now, he, couldn’t remember the last time he had even seen another person.

He had tried to distract himself with pain. The earrings, the damn earrings, every time he tried to get them off, there was, nothing but pain. Or, there used to be. As time went on, the wounds, the, piercings, had seemed to, begin to heal. Now, even yanking at the little grey pieces hardly sent an uncomfortable shiver up his spine. That must mean, god, he could’ve been in here for _months_.

Remy was torn from his thoughts by the clattering of metal, which he had learned meant the cover over the slot in the door was being removed. He stumbled to his feet from where he was laying on the bed, tossing the thin grey sheet off himself as he made his way to the steel door.

He watched as the slot opened, or, at least, he expected it to.

No, no, that wasn’t the sound of the cover being removed. That was hinges. That was the door being opened!

Yes, yes! The hinges rattled and the heavy steel door was pushed open. He had to restrain himself from throwing his body at the door, in a desperate attempt to just _get out_.

His foot tapped against the floor anxiously and eagerly, watching as a, man of average height stepped through.

His curly black hair almost blended in with his dark skin, though it contrasted with the grey, almost science fiction esque jacket he wore, which was mostly covered by a black protective vest. He was slightly lanky, with his face being more filled out than his body in a way that was almost cartoonish.

“Parsons!” Remy called out, having to stop himself from jumping on the man. He had only seen him a few times before, but _god this was a person he knew_. A person! Another person!

The man looked, almost taken aback by the statement. He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts, and looked back at him.

“Oh. You, remember me. Yeah. Parsons. You’re, uh, Chris. One of the candidates. The, IT one.” His voice made him sound somewhat older than he looked, with a slight, almost  unnoticeable lisp, that reminded Remy, oddly enough, of Bill Clinton.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Can I, uh.” He tipped almost up onto one foot, trying to look behind the man, as his stature was blocking the opening between the ajar door and the wall.

Quickly, Parsons used his foot to close the door behind him, stepping further into the room.

“Uh, not right now, sorry. You, remember my position, right?”

“Head of, uh, risk and understanding. Right?”

“Yeah! And, that’s still my position. Head of risk and understanding. And you’re, Chris.”

“Could you, uh, tell me what’s going on? Like-”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s, that’s why I’m here. So, uh, you’re in the security branch of, well, the fellowship. You, remember, Richard, right? King, that guy, yeah?”

“Fucking king of America, yeah, how could I forget?”

“Yeah, uh, he’s gone now! Well, not entirely, in, prison or something. I don’t know,” he gave a half-hearted chuckle, “that’s Dagney’s department, not mine. But, yeah, Martine took charge, and, well. You were, when you were on your, little, roadtrip thing, I guess I’d call it, you were being followed by a, a rebellion issue we’ve been having. Some of the agents, we can only assume the ones loyal to Richard, made a little, group, and they were, following you guys. So, we, rescued you. Now, you’re here!”

“How, long has it been?”

“Since, since what?”

“Since you, uh, rescued us?”

“Oh, um,” Parsons blew a breath through pursed lips, “A week, and a half.”

“God, that long? You, why not sooner?”

“Why wasn’t I here sooner?”

“Yeah.”

“No idea, Chris. I’m just here cause Martine told me to be.”

“Wait, Martine? Wasn’t she, the, evil one?”

“Evil? You’re, maybe your powers are messing with your mind. I’ll, have to have Jamie look at that. Martine may have worked closely with Richard, but, at the end, she was the one who stopped the broadcast. She’s our leader now, head of the whole fellowship.”

“Oh. Uh, alright.” Remy tried to remember the broadcast, tried to picture where Martine had been. He, couldn’t remember exactly. Maybe, she was the one who Nadiya put a knife to. She accidentally shot Richard with her laser vision. Or, maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe, yeah, she had, stood up to him. Stood up to Richard. Saved the country, and the fellowship!

“Yeah! So, I’m supposed to, tell you, about, the situation. Like, with the powers and, yeah. I’m sure you’ve noticed the ear-, well, they aren’t earrings, but they look like them. You’ve noticed those?”

“Yeah. They kinda fucking, hurt, to be honest.”

“I've heard that a lot. It'll wear off, don't worry about it too much. Shouldn't hurt as long as you don't mess with them. Uh, they’re to protect you. From your powers. We, Richard ordered that the power, well, giving process be used before it was ready. There were, unintended psychological effects. You saw that, first hand, with Sage. We think that the rebellion was led by an enhanced whose powers damaged her, mentally. So, our research and development team made, these. The suppressors. So we can stop any further damage until we figure out how to, or, really figure out anything regarding the powers.”

“Oh. Okay, uh, alright. Can I, leave? Like, I. Where’s Irene, and, and Nadiya, and Mary? I need to make sure they’re okay.”

“Uh, well, about that.” Parsons rubbed the back of his head nervously, ruffling his mane of black hair. “Mary and Nadiya, are not here. Either they fled, or, the rebellion captured them. We aren’t sure. But, Irene, is here. Irene is saf-”

“Let me see her.”

“What?”

“Let me see Irene. Let me talk to her.”

“I, can’t let you do that right now. The, her powers were, _damaging_ , physically and mentally. Soon, though, soon, which is, kinda what I was, supposed to, talk to you about. We have, created a division, of enhanced. There’s, well, Martine calls the department, External Affairs. It’s, it’s our force that, well, is mostly dedicated to, stopping the rebellion, and finding and rescuing any estranged enhanceds out there. And, in that department, is a division, just called, the Enhanced Division. You know that old saying, you can only fight fire with fire? Well, a lot of the rebels, are, powered. So, it’s our defense.”

“And you’re asking me-”

“To join, yes.”

“And, if I don’t, is this like a, kill on sight situation, or?”

“Of, course not! If you, decide you don’t want to do it, well, I’d have to talk to Martine, I assume you could go to, well, IT, there’s, yeah, or just, leave, I guess? I don’t know, this is all so new.”

Remy, pondered it, for a moment. He had had to make similar decision when King Richard introduced himself to them, and, his choice had, well, saved the fellowship, and not to mention Mary’s life. If he left, went back his normal life, or went back to being, some IT guy, he would be powerless, hah, in this whole situation. And, he might never see Nadiya or Irene again.

“If, it means helping the fellowship, I’ll do it.”

“Alright. Uh, thank you. I’ll talk to Martine.” Parsons turned around, exiting the room with clear intent not to let Remy follow.

A gust of air was shoved into the room as the heavy, grey steel door drifted shut, leaving Remy alone in the windowless room, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

* * *

 

Irene’s legs ached from pacing, her knees feeling like they were about to give out, but the repetitive action of moving from one side of the cell to the other was, calming. Better than sitting on the bed and staring out at the view of the four blank, black walls.

She had, tried to stay calm, and, she was doing, alright. Well, not exactly. Irene was a sociologist, but not a psychologist. She could analyze interactions between people, but not analyze the effects of not interacting with other people for, god knows how long. Not even seeing someone, except for herself in the mirror, for, what could’ve been weeks, or months, or longer.

Not seeing someone, or, well, not being in the presence of another human being was probably just the slightest overexaggeration.

Irene had formed, a loose schedule, since being, well, imprisoned here. She would wake up, eat the food that had been left during what was, for her at least, the night, pace the room until another meal slipped through the slot in the door, eat it, count to five thousand, then go back to sleep. It had, let her retain, at least some of her sanity. This schedule also allowed her to at least be near another person every, well, what was, for her, day.

It was clearly another person bringing the food, though she couldn’t be sure if it was Dagney or not. Regardless, she still tried to speak to them. At first, she had tried being, calm, kind, requesting conversation or even just a brief exchange of words with the hidden figure. However, this was never met with more than a grunt or an under-the-breath mumble.

So, she had tried being aggressive. Kicking at the door until her foot went numb, banging on it, shouting, yelling every curse she had ever heard of. Still, nothing. The most response she ever got was “shut the fuck up, kid.”

At this point, it was almost a game. Seeing what kind of response she could get out of the guards. Childish, sure, but also the only form of entertainment she really had.

Irene was about halfway through a pace of her small room, no, the cell she was contained within, when the telltale noise of metal clattering came from the door.

Almost as instinctually as fight or flight, she was faced with a decision. She had been kinder yesterday, maybe today the guard would respond to aggression.

Shoulders slumped, she crossed the short distance to the door. She took a few quick breaths, as if she had just run a marathon and was preparing to run all the way back, and raised her shoulders, before slamming the meat of her closed fist against the cold, grey metal. It rattled, but just barely. After all, she was only 5 foot, and wasn’t exactly a being of rage in a small stature.

Oddly enough, as she drew her hand away, the metal continued to rattle, specifically the place she assumed was the keyhole. After a few moments of rattling metal, there was the distinct sound of a key twisting in its lock, and, the door opened.

Irene had felt her fight or flight response plenty of times on the road trip with Remy and the others, whether it be, well, that their car was being chased by a fleet of road and aerial vehicles alike, or that Nadiya had simply slammed on the brakes at an unexpected red light. However, she had not felt the rush of adrenaline recently. There was simply nothing to be afraid of in the small, quiet, relatively empty space.

 _Now there was_.

The woman who entered the room was, taller than her, but only by an inch or two. Her braided black hair went slightly past her shoulders, though it was pulled quite tightly against her scalp, revealing her ears which were, notably, marked with the same grey metal earrings that Irene herself possesed.

Epinephrine instantly flooded her veins, and, in a moment, mostly for the lack of anywhere to flee to, her mind chose fight.

Irene wasn’t, the strongest, or the fastest or most dexterous, but she had instincts as much as anyone else.

She leaped forwards, lunging like a caracal at a finch, attempting to latch onto the woman’s arm. However, in a blur that shouldn’t have been humanly possible, the limb was snatched from her view, being pulled to the woman’s side. Irene landed at thin air, knocked off balance for a moment, but only a moment.

“Woah.” She practically coaxed, stuttering her speech as if one were commanding an equine. “Calm down, Baker.”

Irene _growled_ and leaped again, this time aiming for her back. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get a grip on her shoulders, she could scrabble and cause her to fall. But, once again, she sidestepped out of the way, turning her body ninety degrees. She stuck out an arm before Irene was even able to stop, and slowed her momentum to a halt by doing so.

“Seriously, calm down. Just here to talk, I’m not even armed.” She spoke quickly, but not brashly, and in no one that would make one assume a threat was present. “Alright, alright. If you would stop for a moment. Do you recognize me?”

“Pridmore. From the mixer.”

“Yes, okay, good. And I need to speak to you.”

“Fine. Go ahead.” Irene backed away, slowly uncurling her tightly clenched fists.

“Alright. You are in the security division of the Do Good Fellowship, which is now under the leadership of Martine, after her overthrow of Richard. As you know, as you saw with Sage, the power process, has had some, damaging psychological effects on its recipients. We believe that, because of this psychological damage, several of our own operatives broke off from the fellowship, creating their own, dare I call it a rebellion. This is the group that has been hounding you on your trip across the country. We managed to pinpoint your location and rescue you from their efforts. Chris-”

“Remy.”

“What?”

“His name is Remy.”

“Alright, sure. Remy was rescued alongside you, however, your, traveling companions, Sage and Jones, are, MIA. We are unaware whether they fled or were captured by the rebels, but they are, not here. We, the fellowship, have created a, task force, of enhanced individuals, to, combat them, and, bring them back, to, hopefully, restore their psyches.”

“You’re asking me to join?”

“TLDR, yes.”

“Answer me something, first.”

“Uh, it depends on the question.”

“Are you enhanced?”

“Yes, I am.” She seemed to wait for an answer before sensing that Irene wanted for her to elaborate. “Enhanced reflexes. Not much but, yeah. They’re, well, you could probably tell. I’m not usually that fast.”

“So,” Irene took a step towards Pridmore, “Why are your powers working, when mine aren’t?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Power suppressors. I’m sure you’ve noticed the earrings. They can disable powers when they’re on. Mine are just off right now. Normally, mine are, as they aren’t damaging to my psyche. Yours will remain online until we’ve been able to determine their effect on yours.”

“Alright, then. And what has Remy chosen. To join, or not to?”

Pridmore’s face was held in concentration for a moment as she thought. “Remy has chosen to join.”

Well, how much more did she need then that? Even in this, cinematic chaos, at least she could be alongside someone she trusted.

“Then I will join too.”

* * *

The noise of beeping monitors and buzzing machines was present when Mary awoke, as it always was. She had gotten used to the noise of her own weak heartbeat, gotten used to the computer monitoring her own shallow breathing. She lazily swallowed as she raised one arm. As she expected, it only lifted, maybe two inches off the bed frame before being stopped by the thick restraint closed around her wrist.

The sedatives were in full effect today, she mused as her mind clouded. Too heavy for there to be testing today.

She sighed, not in relief, but in defeat, as the hypnotic induced her unconscious sedation once more.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy and Irene participate in a social situation. Nadiya wakes up once more.

“Is, she going to be okay?” Spoke a female voice with a soft dutch accent.

“The injuries aren’t all that severe. As long as she gets enough rest, she’ll be fine.” A silver-haired woman spoke as she brushed her bangs away from the bandage covering one of her eyes.

“Are you sure? It, doesn’t look alright.”

“Looks worse than it is, hun.” The woman ruffled the messy, black hair of the shorter woman standing next to her. “I just think Joe will be happy to know at least one of the candidates is safe. Especially the R&D one.”

“Still broken up about Lid?” She chuckled slightly and shook the hand from her head.

“Yeah. As much as you are with Grey.”

“They saw him at the last attack.”

“Who did?”

“Uh, Joie I think. I don’t know. Kenny told me.”

“Damn. No ones still seen Lid?”

“Not that I’ve heard. Maybe they’re just not with EA.”

“You think Martine would do that?”

“You think Martine would challenge a guy with knives for hands?”

“She challenged Sage.”

“True.”

“Yeah, its. I’m just glad Nadiya is alright.”

“Have you heard anything about Rembrandt, or, Baker or Sage?”

“We’ll find out, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

  “ _Addison_.” Flanagan hissed as he snapped his fingers. The man sitting next to him shook their head, their mess of silver hair, which was more so just a loose gathering of cowlicks, somehow grew even more untamed as they did so.

  
“Is it morning already?” Addison slurred, their upper eyelids drooping as they slumped their head forward.  
The two were like siblings, forced to be together but always bickering, Irene noted as she watched them. They even looked alike, though Mary had confirmed that they weren’t siblings nor cousins nor related in any way.

  
Flanagan was almost ghostly pale, with dark hazel eyes and sleek, short silver hair that parted around his ears. As Dagney and Pridmore had been, he wore a grey uniform top with a silvery zipper that was zipped up almost all the way. He was always drumming his fingers on the table, and there was a constant sharpness in his eyes that made him appear  passively irritated in a way that reminded her of Nadiya.

  
Addison had the same ghastly skin tone, though their eyes were a dull, pale blue that almost looked off-white. Their hair was a mess, and their eyes were frozen in a constant state of deer-in-headlights. The most notable different between them and Flanagan, however, were the various scars on their face. A simple, short cut ran across the bridge of their nose that appeared to have been shoddily stitched closed in such a way that only a few stitches were pulled taut, leaving most parts of the wound open. Curved, relatively fresh, wounds ran across their neck on either side like tabby stripes. Unlike the other scar, these had no apparent attempt made to heal them. Addison seemed constantly exhausted, and would nod off if there was ever a quiet moment, prompting Flanagan to wake them up whenever they did so.

  
As with most everyone else at the table, including herself, three triangular pieces of metal adorned each of their ears.

  
Remy shared this trait with her as well. His black hair, which was usually pulled into a messy ponytail, was now framing his face, covering his ears. She hadn’t questioned this, as she hadn’t really spoken to him at all, but she could still see the silvery metal between the pitch strands. He seemed to be spacing off in his seat, next to hers, thinking about, something.

“Addison, it’s,” Irene glanced at the digital clock mounted on one of the off-white, almost yellow walls, “Ten, ten in the morning. Almost noon. Did you sleep?”

She hadn’t really tried to speak to the others yet, besides the brief exchanges of, yes, she was at the mixer and the broadcast, yes, her powers manifested as Kardala, and, yes, she was the humanities candidate. Still, if she was going to be stuck here, she may as well acquaint herself with the others.

“Course,” Addison seemed to forget they were speaking mid-sentence before continuing a moment later, “I slept. ‘M just not a morning person.”

“And none of us have powers.” Sylvane retorted, slamming the fingertips of one hand onto the table for emphasis. His chin rested in his other hand, holding up his head like he was a bored student. He had nearly the exact same hair as Flanagan, silver, sleek, short, though his face was longer, with a sharper chin. His facial expressions were oddly off putting, as one of his eyes was swollen, meaning that it was always half-closed, and when it blinked, it was out of sync with the other eye. The swelling appeared to come from a slash that went from about halfway up his forehead to just above his cheekbone, one that had clearly caused some damage to his eyelids.

“Oh, fuck off, knife boy.” Grey piped up from beside Flanagan.

“Says the one who tripped over his own wires!” Sylvane spat back.

“It was one time! One fucking time! And it was only cause you and your flash bullshit knocked me off balance!”

“You did nothing in that fight! Nothing!”

“Neither did you!”

“That’s only because Lid slashed the guy across the fucking face!”

Lid, who was sitting on the other side of Remy, joined with an angry grimace and a shout of, “What? You wanted me, the only one with useful fucking powers, to just sit in the back and let you idiots let him get away?”

“You slashed him across the face! Great job, cause going for the legs would just be too hard.” Sylvane practically growled.

“That’s your job!”

“No, that’s Sylvanes’!” Grey argued.

Their squabble was broken when Flanagan raised a hand, which was already seeping black energy.

“I swear to god, I will make you strangle yourself with your own wires. This is fucking ridiculous.”

Sylvane sounded like he was about to yell something in response, but he quickly quieted himself, instead smirking at Grey.

There was a moment of silence before Irene decided she should probably speak up before they broke out into another argument.

“So, uh, isn’t Dagney meant to be here?” She spoke quietly, unobtrusively.

Sylvane seemed irritated by the very fact that she had spoken. He responded in a quick quip, “She’ll be here later.”

“Or never.” Flanagan muttered.

Irene nodded politely, glancing over at Remy. He met her gaze, still looking anxious and somewhat unfocused.

“Hey, uh, Addison.” He spoke, looking away from Irene and to the person sitting across from him.

“Yeah?” Addison responded, seeming to have to shake themself awake again.

“Sorry for, uh, tackling you?”

“At the broadcast?”

”Mhm.”

“Yeah, it’s, it’s fine.” They shot a nervous look at Flanagan, who looked away sharply. “Was a while ago.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

The room was silent for a moment before it practically _shook_.

Irene instinctively covered her ears with her palms as an alarm blared. It was odd, not like the one a phone would make. Instead, it started out at a reasonable volume, but in three or so seconds, crescendoed to a noise that physically tore at her brain.

Remy did the same, as did Addison, but the others seemed unaffected, if not just annoyed.

“Guess they found Terra again.” Sylvane muttered as he stood up from his seat. “And if you’re going to get in front of us, at least go for the legs, goddammit.”

 

* * *

 

“Fractured wrist, grade two concussion, and, the, gunshot.”

“Gunshot? Where?”

“Just under the right clavicle. Clavicle fracture, too.”

“Jesus. Martine really doesn't know when to stop.”

“You can say that again.”

Nadiya awoke to the sound of conversation between a woman and a man. Their voices were muffled, just slightly, but clearly audible, unlike the last time.

“The director really confronted her?”

This had been the seventh time she had woken up, she noted in the back of her mind. She took a deep breath as she began the little tests she performed every time she awoke.

“Yes.”

First, she swallowed. The first three times, she had been unable to do so, but now, she could. Second, moving her fingers. At first, she hadn’t been able to feel them at all, much less move them, but now, it was pretty easy. The first two tests were almost a given at this point. Now onto those that seemed impossible.

“I thought she wasn’t, well, I thought nobody was supposed to do that? Especially her.”

She took another breath as she tried to move her arm. Before, she hadn’t been able to feel it at all. Though it had regained just the slightest bit of touch, she still was far from being able to use it.

“Eh, seems to really care about her. For Joe’s sake, probably”

Nadiya’s arm raised.

The conversation abruptly stopped as she lowered it again. Did this mean, if she could move-

Nadiya opened her eyes, and, despite the stab of pain it caused, sat up. A wave of nausea wracked her body, threatening to force her to gag, but quickly swallowed it back down.

At first, all her mind could register was white. White walls, white ceiling, only broken by, the two people who the voices must have belonged to.

The first of the two was a latina woman, maybe just under five foot six, with long, pale blonde hair that was tied into a single braid hanging slightly over her shoulder. She wore a white lab coat that looked a little too long for her, and a red plaid undershirt that clashed with the rest of her professional appearance. A short, asian man stood next to her, black glasses blending in with his short hair in a way that Nadiya’s blurry vision wasn’t entirely able to process.

“Nadiya! You’re awake.” The woman spoke, one hand clasping the back of the other as she held both in front of her chest.

Nadiya opened her mouth to say “who are you,” to demand an explanation for what the hell was going on, but all that came out was a slurred, “A’k’e”

She could feel the muscles in her back keeping her upright begin to tremble. In panic, she moved her arms from her lap to behind her in an attempt to keep herself up. Still, it didn’t help. They too gave out, and Nadiya fell to the bed with a thump and a slight bounce of the mattress.

“Oh gosh, uh-”

“Fawn? What’s-”

The white above her was washed over with black as Nadiya fell unconscious once more.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary briefly has a canine companion. Nadiya hears a voice. Remy leaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: Mention of bone breakage

A woman in a lightly colored yellow jacket brushed against Mary as she shoved through the crowd downtown. She could hardly see the shiba inu ahead of her, though she could definitely feel as he yanked on the leash.

Downtown was always crowded, especially on the one day of the week that most people got off work. Still, she needed to go the market, and a crowd wouldn’t stop her. She was used to it, living in Tokyo and all.

Kyogi, the canine practically dragging her, sped up as the crowd began to thin out. He seemed to know the route pretty well, as as soon as they neared the turn into the street that was their destination, he turned, trotting into the street that housed the street market.

It was, not as crowded as the street, though the spattering of people was definitely sizeable. Booths lined both sides, with people standing behind them, quickly organizing the piles of wares before them.

Kyogi raced forwards, tail excitedly whipping back and forth as he tugged Mary along. He dragged her to one of the meat booths, one that specialized in chicken, barking in excitement.

The woman behind the booth smiled, taking a piece of, what appeared to be animal fat, and tossing it at the canine. He was cut off mid-bark as he leaped forwards, grabbing the piece in his jaw before it even hit the ground.

“She should be waking up soon.”

Mary looked up from her excited animal to the woman. Her eyes were locked directly on her, in a way that was, almost unsettling.

“Flanagan?”

Mary stepped back. She appeared to be speaking in multiple voices now. Was this some kind of, street magic?

“Ready.”

“Addison?”

“Ready, Nyota.”

“Alright. Go ahead, Lucas.”

* * *

 

“Can someone _please_ explain to me what the hell is going on!”

“No.” Sylvane muttered in response to Remy’s question, leaning back in his seat on the skimmer. It shook slightly as turbulence rocked the wings. It was too windy to fly, but their cameras had picked up sights on, someone they were calling “Terra,” which apparently meant they had to leave immediately, regardless of weather conditions

“I will. Leave the damn kid alone, Sylvane.” Another voice piped up.

The jet practically shook as Kardala boomed, “Are we going to fight more robot angels?”

“Robot ang-“ Jamie began to question before being cut off by Remy.

“Sage.”

“Oh, with the.”

“Halleluland, yeah.”

“No, Kardala,” Jamie spoke as if she would talking to a young child, “We aren’t going back to Halleluland, but we are on a similar mission. For, almost two weeks now, we’ve been tracking an enhanced, an ex-diversity-and-inclusion operative, uh, her name is Cecil Khouri, but we’re just calling her Terra, Parsons is. And, she can, control the ground. Like, the earth? Rocks and stuff? Yeah. Geokinesis. She’s managed to get away from us the last three times, but, our cameras spotted her again, and, we need to bring her in. You, you had experience, with Sage. Her psyche is damaged. We need to, she needs help.”

Her explanation was almost beat for beat what Parsons had told them on their mission to Halleluland. Of course, he hadn’t been wrong about Mary’s psyche. Remy couldn’t count the times she had gotten physically defensive or aggressive over nothing, or just started shaking, or panicking, for what seemed like no reason. Acting just frenetic in general. But, even if it had been true, the true intent of that mission was bullshit. Richard only wanted to use her powers to broadcast his message to the world. They couldn’t have cared less for her health, or for her at all. All she was to them, was her powers.

Remy began having second thoughts.

“What do you want with her?” His tone was aggressive. Who cared that he was on a plane with only one friendly. He wasn’t going to let them hurt some innocent ex-operative. No one deserved to go through what Mary did.

“Well, to help her, of course.” Jamie’s expression was unreadable as she looked at him. Her skin was pale, and her silvery blue hair, which was the only hair color he had seen that wasn’t grey, white or black, was tied into a tight braid that ran to the center of her shoulder blades.

“Like you wanted with Mary?”

“That was Richard, the ignominious asshole. Martine‘s laser vision stopped him from blowing Sages brains out, remember?”

“Yeah, I know. Nevermind.”

Kardala, who was seated between Remy and Jamie, sat upright in a way that he could no longer see the blue-haired woman.

“No robot angels, then?” She asked in a way that made him unsure whether she was joking or not.

“No, no, robot angels. Same rules, apply, though? Like, try not to hurt, uh, Terra, whatever her name was. Goal is to capture, not, injure, or, like, kill? Can you do that?”

There was hesitation before she spoke, “Kardala will try.”

* * *

 

Nadiya. Nadiya. Nadiya.

Nadiya Jones.

Calm down.

She screwed her eyes shut, listening to her own breathing, focusing on the rise and fall of her own chest that exhausted her.

Her hands weakly grabbed at the blanket she lay on, finger pads smoothing it over, feeling it, over and over, as if it would change, and everything would be okay.  
She had grown used to waking up to a thin hospital sheet beneath her fingers. It wasn’t what she wanted to wake up to, she didn’t want to be in that hospital room at all, but at least she knew she was still somewhere. Somewhere solid, somewhere normal.  
The blanket, the cloth she felt now, was some kind of soft fleece. Something that was clearly not the thin sheet characteristic of a hospital bed.  
Not worrying on its own, of course. But what it meant made bile rise in Nadiya’s throat.  
She had been moved in her sleep, without her knowing it. And now she was somewhere else. Somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere that could spell danger.  
Part of her mind insisted that everything was alright. That she would open her eyes and be in the home of Remy’s brother, with Mary watching the door like an overprotective hound.

But, then again, the other part of her was more worrisome. She was in some kind of lab, or the fellowship had captured her, oh gods, what if they had found the others too?  
Nadiya. Calm down. Just open your eyes.

She took a deep, shaky breath, swallowing the bile that had been threatening to rise in her throat, and opened her eyes.  
Alright. Not the hospital room. Definitely not.  
The ceiling above her was a light color, between cream and beige. The smell of sterility and bleach was gone, except for the threads clinging to her.    
Her vision was hazy for a moment, black clouds threatening to take hold and blind her, but it soon cleared, though her peripheral was less so.

Nadiya took a deep breath, a second, a third, before bracing her arms against the mattress and attempting to force herself to a sitting position.

 _Pain_.

Pain stabbed through her shoulder as soon as she put weight on her arm, sending a white hot flash of agony that blinded her for a moment, sending her collapsing to the mattress. Her breath came in gasps as she forced her eyes open.

She was wounded. Alright. If it wasn’t fatal, it wasn’t fatal.

Nadiya used her uninjured arm to push herself upwards, grimacing at the dull stab of pain just under her right clavicle. After maybe half a minute of struggling to right herself, she put her back against the wall, looking over the room she now found herself in.

She shook her head. That wasn’t important right now. She had to make sure she wasn’t going to bleed out, before she rested.

Gritting her teeth, Nadiya rolled up the short sleeve of the thin, cream-colored shirt she was dressed in.

Bandages were wrapped around her chest, though care had been taken to make sure she could still breath without difficulty. Dots of blood littered the area surrounding a point just under her right clavicle, though they were small, and many were more brown than scarlet.

An injury, but it’s not fatal. A non fatal injury. She would be fine.

Now that her hand was nearer to her face, as it was holding up the sleeve, she saw that there was a white cast of some sort on her wrist.

A wrist brace. Alright. So she had hurt her wrist too. But it was likely just a fracture. She would live.

No more injuries than that. Alright, Nadiya, now just see where you are.

She took a deep breath before letting the sleeve fall down and letting her gaze shift from her shoulder to the room she was in.

The room was, small, but nice, almost like a dorm room. The walls were somewhere between cream and beige, their texture making them appear wooden, though they were clearly metal. A short, white bookshelf, with four or five books on the bottom shelf, was almost right next to the head of the bed, on the side not bordered by the wall. In the wall opposite the one the bed was pressed against sat a closed wooden door, which she could only guess led to a bathroom of some sort.

However, despite the niceties, there was still the heavy, handle-lacking steel door. It was nice, sure, but it was a prison cell.

Nadiya’s eyes flicked around the room a few times, registering that, yes. She was alone. And, oddly enough, stoic, cold scientist, Nadiya Jones, was terrified by this.

“Oh, Nadiya. You’re awake.”

 

* * *

The small clearing of snow was melted beneath the Jetplane as it slowed its vertical descent via use of downward thrusters that appeared to have come straight out of a science fiction movie. The plane rocked slightly when it hit the grass, though it quickly settled on the uneven dirt.

“You’re sure, uh, Terra, is here?” Remy questioned as he jumped down from the plane’s exit to the ground. The fresh air was incredible, filling his lungs and beating at his face. It was cold, but it was the first fresh air he had breathed in what felt like ages, and, god, did he miss the outdoors.  
“If she wasn’t we wouldn’t be here!” Sylvain snapped.  
“Well, maybe I would’ve known that if you’d tell me what was going on without dodging the question!”  
“It’s not my job to explain, especially not to those who may as well be loyal to Grac-”  
“Sylvain. Get going.” Elxa, former head of facilities, now risk and Understanding operative in charge of Sylvain, Lid, and Dagney, practically growled as she walked behind him.  
Sylvain looked like he was about to speak, but closed his mouth and hurried after Elxa, but not before casting a glare back at Remy.  
“Little man, it is time for battle!” Kardala boomed, shoving her way up beside him and ruffling his hair with one massive hand.  
“Keep your voice down. We need to get near before she notices us. Stealth.” Jamie butted in, moving around Remy to be in front of them. “Grey. Get your wires ready. We need to be able to pounce as soon as we’re in range.”  
Grey moved so he was on the other side of Remy than Kardala, though he stayed about three feet away from him. He held up an arm that seemed to be wrapped in cables of some sort. Without him touching the wires, they slithered, as if snakes, until they were wrapped around his hand.

Remy was mesmerized for a moment, before he realized that, oh yeah, this was a world in which people had superpowers. Syrmakinesiswas hardly as surprising as a unicorn Bible animatronic charging at you, full speed.

Jamie nodded, leading the three to follow Elxa and her group. She spoke as she walked, keeping her eyes ahead of her the whole time.

“We need to get close before we go in. Sylvain goes first. If he fucks up, the rest of us go in.” She explained.

“You are saying we must simply watch this, Sylvain, fight?” Kardala sounded upset, though she continued to follow Jamie.

“There, well. Sylvain, I’m assuming you know, he has superspeed, yeah? It’s best if he can take care of the situation without escalating it, but he, kinda sucks at his job. Dagney and Lid are going to, Sylvain is going to drive Terra towards them. That’s the first plan, but if it doesn't work, then, just, go in. There’s no plan after that, really. Tackle her or whatever. As long as she’s not dead.”

Remy nodded. He wasn’t sure he would be able to, fight someone, not when they were likely an innocent, being hounded across the country.

There were, the others, of course. Lid, and Grey, and Dagney, and Jamie and Elxa and, Kardala. He wouldn’t have to fight, not unless Terra ran straight at him.

But, maybe, if he was lucky, if the battle worked in the way of some divine deity, he could deescalate it. No one would have to get hurt. Maybe, just maybe.

Fields of wheat undulated before him, though the shoots only reached ranging from his ankles to his shins. The only structure of any sort he could see were fences, that were less so fences and more so thin wooden posts unevenly hammered into the ground with rope threading them together.

“So, does she have, like, plant mimicry, alongside geokinesis?” Remy asked with a chuckle.

Jamie didn’t respond, instead gesturing to the left with her hand. His gaze followed her gesture, and, hidden in a slight dip, was, what appeared to be, an old barn.

It was only half standing, with the wood on the outside unpainted, except for the roof, which was streaked with faded red lines, and falling apart. There was no door, but the overgrown lichen creeping up every wall hung down over the empty entranceway, creating a door that was almost like that of an animal's den.

The noise of footsteps suddenly stopped, and Remy jerked his gaze back to the group in front of them. Elxa held up one hand in a ‘halt’ motion, while her team stood just slightly ahead of her.

“ _Get down_.” Jamie hissed from behind them. Remy considering contradicting the order for a moment, but upon seeing Sylvain, Dagney, Elxa, and Lid drop into the wheat, he followed. The plants provided little cover, but they still slightly obscured his vision of the scene.

“W, What’s going on?” Grey stammered, any shred of confidence he had prior now abandoned.

“Rebels.” Jamie spoke, pushing herself up on her elbows slightly to get a better view.

Remy did the same, though he was quite sure he wasn’t supposed to.

As soon as he hauled himself to his elbows, he was practically knocked back by a wave of force and sound. As he watched, the cold of the snow on his bare skin began to burn, but fear kept him from moving.

A modified skimmer of some sort descended to the grass before them. It was almost graceful, its descent-slowing thrusters seeming to blast compressed air instead of spitting flame. It landed on landing gear sticking out of the black plane’s underbelly before the gear lowered back into the slots whence they came, as if the vehicle was a horse lowering itself for its rider to dismount.

As soon as it lowered, a door swung open, and, oddly enough, instead of the torrent of people Remy expected, only six people leaped out.

At their lead was a shorter woman with white-dyed hair and a black protective vest of some sort. Two other operatives fanned out behind her: A younger woman with golden hair, and a lithe man with hair stained chestnut.

“Remy, take Litti. Kardala, get Rin. Grey, Axil.” Jamie commanded as she leaped to her feet.

“Who?” Remy asked, panic pricking at his voice. _This was actually happening he was going to have to fight holy shit holy fuck._

“Litti, white hair. Rin, gold hair. Litti is fast as shit, Rin has a sword arm. Drive them away while Sylvain gets Terra.” She explained. Before she had finished saying ‘Terra,’ she was already running into the fray.

Remy nodded, gasped for one last deep breath, and ran.

His eyes locked onto Litti, who was tearing towards the barn. The energy from his powers, which the deactivation of the earrings seemed to return to him, poured into his veins. Out of the corner of his vision he spotted a wooden post sticking up from the ground, and changed his trajectory so he was tearing towards it. Around seven feet in front of it, he launched himself into the air, landing on it with his hands cupped around the top. He bent his arms and, using the leverage gained, hurled himself into the air, flipping head over heels at least three times before tackling Litti. The force sent her toppling to the ground before she could dodge out of the way, and Remy landed on his feet, while she was sent sprawling.

He prepared to tackle her again, maybe to knock her out, but he didn’t have the chance as, faster than he could blink, or even register what was happening, she leaped to her feet, tearing towards him. Or, more accurately, moving so fast that she practically teleported to him.

Litti swung one arm at his head, and, before he could react, it was wrapped around his throat. She had Remy in a headlock for a moment, but, in a split second, she flung him to the ground, forcing her foot on his diaphragm.

The fight appeared to be over, but like hell Remy was going to let her win that easily. He needed to be on at least equal ground with her. Maybe they could talk this out, and no one would have to be injured, more than they already had been.

Remy rolled out from under her foot, leaping to his feet. With a dash of speed that he was sure only Sylvain should’ve been able to accomplish, he ran behind Litti, barreling into her and knocking her to the ground. He would’ve fallen on top of her, but he threw his momentum into a flip, landing just in front of her, before twisting around to face her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he was too slow. Litti got to her feet and threw a punch at his head, one that he was unable to dodge. Bile rose in his throat as his head was knocked to the side, but he quickly counteracted with a punch to the ribs.

The two traded hits for what felt like ages, though he couldn’t imagine it being more than a minute. Most landed, and, after taking one to the throat, he knew that he couldn’t win in simple hand-to-hand.

Remy threw his arm like he was about to hit her on the shoulder, which she put up an arm to block, but, as soon as the hit was about to connect, he changed its course, wrapping his arm around her neck and forcing her into a headlock.

He spun, throwing her small stature to the ground. Knowing that she would be to her feet by the time he could turn around, he quickly threw himself into a backflip, intending to land in front of her.

He knew he undershot when he heard a sickening _crack_.

Litti screeched in agony, and he quickly jumped off, from where he had landed on her arm.

He had just broke her arm. _He had broke her arm he had broke her arm he had broken another person's arm an unarmed person holy shit holy shit._

“Sorry!” He shouted, already fleeing. She didn’t need to be attempting to continue the fight with such an injury. Maybe he could flee to the barn, say he was looking for Terra, so he didn’t have to fight anymore.

Remy’s mind took in the scene around him as he ran.

Kardala was being blown back by Rin, who had her hands held up, palms facing outwards, while the snow on the ground ferociously whipped at her opponent. Grey panted while in a standoff of sorts with Axil. The ground was littered with scraps of cable, likely courtesy of Axil, who had some sort of blade along the outer part of his arm like a mermaid’s fin. Sylvain, Lid, and Dagney were locked in heated battle with a person who appeared to be a pyromancer, judging by the flames surrounding his hands.

Remy continued to madly dash for the barn, but skidded to a stop when the area ahead of him was filled with a blast of smoke, tinged with flame.

Dagney and Lid threw themselves from the blast, but Sylvain was nowhere to be seen. When the smoke dissipated and the flame cleared, all that remained in the scene was the pyromancer, ashes, crops clinging to life, and Sylvain, on his hands and knees. The tips of his hair were singed, and, though he was facing away from Remy, he could already see the edges of a burn on his ear.

Sylvain panted for a moment, before his shout resounded through the air.

“Protocol pathos!”

Remy’s gaze was drawn to the wheatfield, watching as Addison and Flanagan emerged from a particularly tall patch. They lunged towards Sylvain, skidding to a stop, right next to-

Jamie.

One of Jamie’s arms was held by Dagney, while the other was stilled by Lid. Flanagan held up a hand, black energy swarming around it.

_No._

They weren’t doing this to another person, especially unwillingly.

Remy threw himself forwards, bracing his hands on the ground before slamming his feet down in an animalistic gallop. He used the leverage from the ground to leap through the air, slamming into Flanagan.

As soon as he collided, the black energy dissipated, and Flanagan sprawled to the dirt.

Remy jumped to his feet, glaring at Sylvain, who returned the angered gaze. He was torn from the staring contest by Jamie’s voice from behind.

“They’re gone. Out of range.”

He turned to look at her. She had torn herself from the grasps of Lid and Dagney, and was now a step in front of them.

She looked at him and mouthed ‘thanks’ before turning back in the direction of the Jetplane.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy loses control. Irene breaks up a fight. Nadiya does something very unscientific. Mary awakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned that this chapter is very heavy in violence, and it is one of the main reasons I tagged this for graphic depictions of violence.  
> That being said, caution warnings for gore, possible body horror (depending on how you look at it. It isn't gory, and it isn't detailed,) brief depictions of strangulation, and blood.

Remy breathed cool, night air into his lungs as he crouched atop the high rise. An icy breeze blew his hair back, but, despite the slight chill it sent up his spine, it was nice. Better than the stuffiness of the base.

“How in god's name are we supposed to find him in all of this?” Jamie complained from her spot next to him. “It’s _New York_ . You can’t find _yourself_ in New York! I’m gonna ask Parsons, this is ridiculous.”

“Weren’t you supposed to, like, sense him?” Remy questioned as he sat up from his position. Flanagan grunted from beside Jamie, dragging one finger across the concrete of the rooftop.

“Yeah, but it’ll be impossible. There’s so many other emotions to filter through. And if I put down the walls of my empathy, I’ll go catatonic.”

“Then,” he hesitated, uncertainty weighing in the silence, “How are we supposed to find him?”

“I’m waiting.” Jamie spoke, moving from her kneeling position to a sitting one. “Parsons is gonna locate him.”

“You’ve spoken to Parsons?”

“Of course. He’s the head of my department.”

“Has he heard, or, has he seen-“

“No. There’s been no sign of Jones or Sage.”

“Are you sure? They couldn’t have gone far on foot, if you just looked. Maybe he’s lying, he did tell me that I was, only in the security wing for like, two weeks. When it was a month.”

“They’ve looked, trust me. I would have known, I’m-“ Jamie was cut off by her electric blue watch receiving a message. She tapped a heat-sensitive button below the screen and, in a split second, a cyan holographic screen appeared, projected from the screen of the device. It showed a map of the area, which was contrasted by a bright red dot present on one part of it. “He’s there. Let’s go.”

“Wait that’s, halfway across the city. Are you sure you two can make it before he moves on?”

“We’ll be fine.” She looked to Flanagan, who nodded, before she grinned and she stood to her feet, pushing her braid from her shoulder to her back. “Time to fly, jump boy.”

* * *

 

Irene yanked the thick comforter over her head as she rolled over in bed once more. Her own breath billowed back in her face as she forced her eyes closed.

Exhaustion, both from Kardala taking hold, as well as the entirety of the ordeal, drug at her mind, making her thoughts muddled, though her body simply refused to go to sleep. The heat of the blanket was almost sickly, making her feel dizzy and nauseous.

She laid there for, a few more moments, letting the warm air blow back in her face, before rolling over again.

Despite Irene trying to block out the thought, it drifted back to her, in the absence of anything else.

After the group had eaten dinner together, which was, a bit of a disaster, Remy and Jamie had been called away again for another mission, out in New York.

She wasn’t sure where the base they were in was, but that didn’t matter. New York was New York, and it was dangerous. Especially when it was only two of them. If something went wrong, he could get captured by those, rebels, or worse.

Her ears pricked at the sound of, a door slamming.

Had Remy returned? It had only been three hours, but the planes were fast. Maybe the base was actually in New York, or Pennsylvania, or they just hadn’t found whoever they were looking for.

Irene sat up in bed, pushing the comforter off of herself and swinging her legs over the side. She stood to her feet on legs that were still waking up, smoothing her hair from her face, and making her way towards the door.

Wait, no.

The noise wasn’t from the common room in the center of the dorms. It seemed to be coming from the room next to hers: Addison’s.

She stopped in her tracks, listening in silence.

Two voices. And one of them didn’t sound happy.

Slowly, making sure not to let it creak, Irene pushed open the door to her room.

The common room was dark, a single light flickering over the table, illuminating it dimly before cutting out, leaving the room in complete darkness.

The doors to the dorms were all closed, except for, notably, Lid’s.

Irene had only known these people for two days, sure, but something was _wrong_.

She stopped again to listen. Someone was shouting. The walls muffled it, but it was clear what the noise was.

Her humanities instinct kicked in. Either someone was hurt, or there was a fight going on. Neither were favorable.

She took a few deep breaths, calming herself. The last thing the situation needed was for her to be escalated as well. Once the remaining adrenaline she hadn’t even realized was in her veins had dissipated, she quietly padded to the door, making little to no noise.

Gently, Irene placed her hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly, and pushing the door inwards.

The noises didn’t stop, nor grow any quieter. Irene hesitated, but pushed the door open the rest of the way.

A silver-haired human projectile immediately almost crashed into her, slamming into the wall just next to her. Immediately, the person leaped to their feet, not seeming to notice Irene.

Though it was slightly hard to tell from a glance, she recognized the mess of feathery silver hair to be Addison’s. As soon as she made the realization, Addison had already dashed to the other side of the room, so that they were a few feet behind Lid.

Irene hadn’t formerly been sure of Lid’s powers, but, needless to say, now she was.

Lid’s hands were clenched into fists, and from each of his knuckles, excluding the thumb, extended long, metallic, claw-like blades. The sliver of light from the hallway glinted off their tapered edges, reflecting off of the scarlet liquid dappling them and dripping onto the carpet.

His eyes were narrowed, and had an almost feral glint to them as he looked behind him, at Addison.

He opened and closed his fist as if he were stretching it, before swiveling around to face them. In a flash of splattered blood, he swiped at their chest, but not before Addison shot their hand forward, catching his wrist.

A grin shot across Lid’s face, and he moved his palm up, before shoving again their grasp. Addison was clearly the loser of the strength contest, as their arm practically went limp, allowing Lid to slash his claws across their upper arm.

“Lid!”

Lid tore his arm away from Addison, fresh crimson staining his claws like a child’s fingers covered in paint. The two looked to Irene, Addison’s eyes wide in shock and fear, while Lid’s were narrowed like that of a rabies-infected raccoon.

“Stay out of this.” Lid spoke in a tone that was deeper than the way in which he usually articulated himself. He retracted the claws of one hand, using the index finger and thumb to wipe the blood from one claw in the way a chef would clean residue from a knife, flicking it from between his finger pads as if he were the most dignified executioner alive.

“Leave the poor kid alone, Lid.” Irene confidently took a step towards the bloodied man. Of course, she was anything but confident. She would likely be regretting this decision in two seconds, when she had four slashes torn into her neck and was bleeding out, but, instincts.

“I said, this is none of your business.” Lid growled, parroting her by taking a step in her direction.

“Stop being so, childish!” Irene snapped. “They’re obviously not fighting back! A real fighter knows when to back down!”

“Like Kardala?” He retorted in an almost threatening tone.

“Well, you know, I don’t have control over what she does. Whether that be, hurting a certain teammate. I have no control.” She stepped forwards again, and Lid took a step back.

“Whatever. I’m done here anyway.” Lid snarled, retracting his still bared set of claws in what she could only assume was an act of concealed submission. He gave Irene a berth of almost half a foot as he stomped out of the room

Irene shook her head, more surprised that she got out of the confrontation with her throat still in her neck than anything. She had almost forgotten about Addison entirely, but was reminded when an exasperated “thanks” sounded from the other side of the room.

“Yeah.” She responded, a bit woozy herself from the whole experience. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll live. Just gotta,” they had to stop in the middle of their sentence to catch their breath, “Gotta stop the bleeding.”

Irene nodded, trying to lock the door, to make sure Lid wouldn’t return, but found that the deadbolt had no latch to lock with. She swallowed a few drops of bile her body had kicked up late before taking a washcloth and roll of gauze from the paucity of medical supplies on a small end table near the door.

“I was in humanities, I got this.” She spoke, approaching briskly, one ear still turned to the door. She gestured for Addison to sit on the bed, which they abided after a brief hesitation.

Beforehand, she hadn’t noticed the severity of the wounds, but, now, up close, Irene was surprised that Addison was still conscious.

Thick, almost congealing, streams of blood poured from the fresh wound in their upper arm, soaking the silvery sweater they wore with crimson. Two twin slices cut down the side of their neck, criss-crossing with partially healed wounds that decorated their neck like tabby stripes.

Irene was far from easily nauseated, but even so, she couldn’t help but cringe at the clean slices through flesh. Shoving it to the back of her mind, she placed the gauze to the side and took up the washcloth, unfolding it and placing it atop the neck wound. Sure, it wasn’t bleeding in such torrents as their arm, but it was close to an artery, as well as the esophagus.

She applied pressure firmly, yet gently, watching the brown cloth grow to a, muddish color as it soaked up crimson. It took what must’ve been at least two minutes to stop the bleeding. Slowly, the blood causing the cloth to stick to the wound, she drew it away. She quickly wrapped it with gauze to avoid any further blood loss, then proceeded to tear away the sleeve covering the injured arm. The bleeding didn’t stop entirely, but she was able to wrap it, at least to the point where the blood loss wouldn’t be detrimental.

“He’s done this before?” Irene questioned as she used a wad of dry gauze to clean the remaining gore on their arm.

“Eh, yeah. He gets like this sometimes. Likes to blame me when we fail a mission.” Addison sounded exhausted, and almost nonchalant.

“Was the, face wound, that too?” She asked out of genuine curiosity. The wound across the bridge of their nose seemed too delicate, too small, to be made by such savage claws.

“Oh, gods no. If he got my face I would be blind. That was Flanagan. We got in a fight, like, a month ago?”

“Ah.” Irene drew away the gauze, placing it alongside the washcloth. “There. You should be alright now. Sorry that I don’t have anything for the pain.” She hesitated a moment before speaking. “A nail should work for the deadbolt.”

“You think that’ll really work?”

“Probably. Stay safe, kid.”

“I’m 23!” They insisted jokingly. “I’m not a kid.”

Irene chuckled. “I know.”

Despite their short silver hair and controlled movements, they reminded her a lot of Mary.

* * *

 

The wind buffeted Remy’s face in piercing, repeated gusts as he fell from the roof of the highrise, body positioned like a cat that had already righted itself and was waiting for the ground to catch up with it. Instinct forced bile to rise in his throat, forced adrenaline to flood his veins. Though it was clearly unnecessary, there was no way he could tell his body that. In preparation for landing, he pressed the heat-sensitive button on his watch, causing a smaller version of the map that Jamie had shown to appear. It focused on a small arrow, that he knew represented himself, which had a black line stretching out before it.

The flat rooftop below caught up quickly, and he landed solidly on hands and feet, shock waves rippling from his palms to the arch of his spine. In an almost wild way, he tore forwards, vision flicking from the area directly in front of his feet to the map projected by his watch as he transitioned from all fours to his feet in a few steps.

Remy narrowed his eyes against the wind as he made the first leap to the next rooftop.

His heart sunk as he looked down. Cars streaked past on the single lane road, their headlights illuminating each other more than they did the road. Nothing but air was between him and being beneath the tires of a semi-truck.

He forced himself to look back at the roof that rapidly raced towards him. As if he had performed the act thousands of times, he landed, crouched over, pushing his hands against the roof to balance himself, then got to his feet again, continuing his wild sprint.

Remy made a sharp turn, clearing the rest of the roof gaps with the ease of a two foot jump. Billows of his own breath blew back in his face, forcing his to blink away tears formed by the cold.

After several more sharp turns, he found himself in the outside of the city, which was solely inhabited by apartment and office buildings, as well as more run down shops, some of which were impossible to tell whether they were abandoned or closed.

His eyes narrowed as he spotted an industrial park ahead. He closed the map projecting from his watch, speeding forward so that he almost tripped over his own feet.

Remy leaped off the last roof, managing to keep his hesitation internal. He landed on his feet, surprising even himself, before stopping a moment to breathe. When he had stability back in his legs, he walked forward, quieter, slower, now.

This mission was far more, contentious, than the last. Not only because of its location near a crowded city, though that was certainly a concern, but also because of the, enhanced person, they were meant to, ‘rescue’.

Jamie had called him a, corporikinetic, one who could, control the movements of another's body. Sending Sylvain, or Lid, or Irene, well, Kardala would’ve been far too risky. Even Grey would be too much of a danger, even without his syramkinesis under their control.

That left Remy, Jamie, and Flanagan, the smallest group possible that allowed them to keep their powers.

The mission hinged on their ability to get in and out before the situation could escalate.

His watch buzzed as it received a message. He placed his finger over the button, displaying the line of text in a clinical cyan font.

“We’re here. Get in position. On Flanagan’s signal, we go.”

* * *

 

“Oh, Nadiya, you’re awake.”

The voice was feminine, clearly, and oddly familiar, like a personified sense of deja vu. The slightest bit of microphone static was heard as some kind of earpiece was adjusted. Despite the relatively low volume of the noise, it tore at Nadiya’s brain for the short period it played.

Nadiya tripped over her own words for a moment before speaking in a meek, nervous voice, “Where am I?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the voice responded. “Can’t tell you that, hun. I can only say that you’re safe here.”

Nadiya gulped, causing the pain in her clavicle to flare up again. Okay. She was a prisoner. Someone was talking to her. They wouldn’t tell her where she is. She doesn't have her powers. The others aren’t here. She’s alone she’s alone she’s alone she’s alone. She’s alone in a prison cell that could be anywhere and the others aren’t here.

Nadiya didn’t cry. She didn’t. Not when she was upset, or angry, or in pain.

Nadiya felt tears well in her eyes, because she was _scared_. Terrified. She was alone, and she was afraid.

No, this was stupid. She couldn’t be this, weak, especially not here. She quickly dried her eyes with the thin sleeve of the cream-colored shirt she wore, swallowing a few times to clear her choked up throat.

Her voice was still teary and faltering when she spoke, “Where are the others?”

“Hun,” The voice was maternal, worried, “Sage is, unknown. Rembrandt and Baker, are,” she sounded like she was about to say something starting with the letter ‘i,’ but quickly changed her mind, “Also unknown.”

Of course. They weren’t here, wherever here was.

Why should she care, though? She had only known the dimwits for, what, two weeks. For the sake of the gods, two of them had tried to kill her! On separate occasions! She should be worried about, science, or something. This, damn farce. Normally, Nadiya wouldn’t want to know the status of, others, before, how she had got here, or, who the person talking to her was, or, anything else.

Without thinking, she asked, “Am I on morphine?” She must be. There is no other way her mind would be faltering in such a way.

“You, I think you were. I wasn’t the one in charge of that. But I’d assume so. Or some similar painkiller. You, well, you probably already saw. You took a gunshot to the shoulder. They removed the bullet but, well, you’re on some pretty strong painkiller right now. But not morphine. Why do you ask?”

Nadiya’s planned retort was banished at the information delivered in such a passive tone. She had taken a bullet. And gotten it surgically removed. And been under the influence of strong drugs for, at least a few days, if not weeks.

Nadiya wasn’t afraid of anything, of course. She was a _scientist_. She just, wasn’t the biggest fan of having no control over the situation was in.

“Just, feeling, kinda woozy.” She quickly spoke as she realized she hadn’t answered the question. It wasn’t entirely a lie, she did feel, somewhat dizzy, though it was easily ignored.

“Yeah, that’ll happen. It’ll wear off.”

In the background of the audio input, in a way that the microphone could just barely pick up, someone spoke, though the words couldn’t be made out.

“Oh gods, really? Alright, one moment, I’ll be right there. Can you get a read on the mission?”

The voice in the background spoke again, and the microphone feed cut off.

* * *

Remy watched with squinted eyes as wisps of black energy drifted over the edge of the bulky air conditioner, which sat atop a roof across the industrial park.

He took a deep breath, looking out from the wall which he hid behind one last time, just make sure, yes, that was Flanagan’s signal. Another breath, before whirled around, powers kicking into gear as he tore forwards, turning sharply into the back entrance and slamming the door behind him.

The metallic clang echoed hollowly, resounded in his chest and through the walls.

Okay. Get in and get out. You can do this, Chris.

His gaze was quickly drawn to the ladder in the corner of the abandoned warehouse. He tore towards it, hardly able to see in the dark building, but managing to get a solid grip on the rusted metal rung.

His heartbeat only quickened as he ascended up the rungs. He was to the top in a few agile leaps, and landed silently on the odd combination of a loft and a catwalk that the top of the ladder was just slightly above.

Get in, get out.

Remy watched through squinted eyes as a man emerged from a den-like structure made of crates blanketed with cobwebs. He was taller, and quite lithe, with shaggy black hair and a fresh cut running along the side of his neck. He looked to be just slightly older than Mary, judging by his eyes and stature.

Get in, get out. Get in, get out.

Remy waited until the other man, whom he knew as Scorpio, stopped in the center of the floor, looking for the source of the noise.

He took a deep breath, lowering himself on the loft in a sort of cat-like crouch, and pounced.

Remy crashed into Scorpio, wincing at the sickening noise of bones slamming into metal. The sheer force of the tackle cause the two to roll over each other once before they both leapt to their feet.  

The plan had been that a Scorpio would run, Remy would drive him to the others, and Jamie would use empathy to knock him out.

Scorpio didn’t run.

Pain stabbed at Remy’s neck, and it felt like he had been tased and set on fire at the same time. His instincts told him to run, to fight back, to do _anything_. But his body wouldn’t respond.

He could only watch in abject horror as his own hands rose to his neck, pressing around it, crushing his windpipe. His body instinctively gasped for air, but it was useless.

Remy’s body was completely out of his control.

He felt his lungs burn as his vision went hazy. His knees shook like they were about to give out, but whatever control a Scorpio had on him kept him from collapsing to his knees.

“Hey! Neckbeard!”

Remy’s vision was almost black, but his hearing was still holding on. The voice was Jamie’s, he realized after a moment.

Through the hazy sight he had left, he saw a blur of a person, and, not even a moment later, control of his body was regained to him.

He heaved for breath as he fell to his hands and knees, blinking rapidly to try to clear his vision. Mind still going in a thousand different directions, he looked up, at where his attacker had formerly stood.

All that was left was the sight of Scorpio turning tail and fleeing out the open back door, and Jamie, one hand clutching her hair.

She painted a few times before looking at him with an expressionless face.

“Now we're even.” She said, the only emotion showing in her tone being exhaustion. “Let’s get back to base. If Flanagan asks, there was no sign of Scorpio, and you got attacked by some junkie holed up in here.”

Remy nodded, just glad he was able to breathe again.

* * *

Mary Sage awoke to pain.

Agonizing, stabbing pain through every nerve of her body, mixed with nauseousness and heat singeing at her skin. Bile rose in her throat, but her attention was torn from it by an acute pain behind her eyes.

She was sure she was about to vomit, but the bile stopped rising before she did.

She hadn’t felt this pain since-

No. This was a nightmare. It had to be. She was just imagining this. She would wake up in a moment and everything would be fine.

Despite the agony tearing through her body, Mary was still able to register the feeling of her hair raising, static pulsing through every strand. She found herself drawn to some device in the room, one she couldn’t quite register. Still, her powers grabbed onto it, taking control of its circuits and boards.

She bit back a scream as a surge of power violently rippled from the device and, a moment later, it was shut down, leaving her powers nothing to grab onto.

“In the name of Aarin fucking Kurtz!” A female shouted, and, despite her muddled thoughts, Mary recognized it as Martine.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy needs a break. Irene overhears. Mary remembers. Nadiya calms down, with some rather mysterious outside help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for animal attacks, blood, and mentions of the mafia.

A chill wind whipped at Remy’s face, blurring his vision and yanking at his hair. He lowered himself close to the ground, allowing himself to pant for a moment, before getting back up and speeding after the rest of the group into the dense, overgrown forest ahead.

Exhaustion tugged at his limbs as he ran, threatening to make him trip at any moment. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical, either. His thoughts were muddled and unfocused, likely due to the fact that he had only returned from New York five hours ago.

Still, he had to stay with the group, if only for Irene’s, well, currently Kardala’s sake.

Remy sped forward, joining the back of the group that consisted of Kardala, Jamie, Grey, Addison, and Flanagan.

After much argumentation, the group had come to a consensus on a strategy that didn’t consist entirely of Sylvain tackling the enhanced.

Jamie, who headed the group, suddenly dug her heels into the dirt, stopping her momentum. She quickly lowered herself to the undergrowth, disappearing almost entirely into it.

The rest of the group followed, the overgrown plants providing some sort of cover.

Remy pricked his ears to the noise of footsteps growing closer. Elxa’s group had accepted the job of chasing the enhanced towards them, and leaving Jamie’s group to subdue them.

He watched the trees ahead with squinted eyes, listening as the footsteps drew closer and closer. Closer, closer, louder, louder.

Sylvian burst out from the trees, his face betraying an exhaustion Remy had never seen from him before.

“Change of plans!” He shouted, disappearing into the trees a mere moment later.

Before they had time to respond, a grey blur lept from the trees, giving chase to Sylvain. It was quickly followed by Lid, who’s claws were extended preemptively, and Elxa.

“Follow!” Jamie commanded as she emerged from the undergrowth, whirling around and following Elxa’s lead. With only a moment of hesitation, Remy followed, the footsteps of the rest of the group close behind.

The transition between dark forest and blindingly bright field was sharp and immediate, causing a sharp stab of pain behind Remy’s eyes as he burst from the enveloping forest darkness.

The fallow field stretched out as far as his hazy vision could see, though his focus was immediately drawn to Sylvain, and his attacker.

Sylvain’s blue-grey eyes were locked with the piercing yellow ones of an oversized grey wolf.

Well, Remy wasn’t exactly sure how big a wolf was meant to be, but, he didn’t think that their shoulders were at the same height as those of a human.

The creature was covered in matted, grey fur that obscured the shape of its body, though, its paws were an exception to this. From its paws extended dire claws the color of pitch, which were coated in the soil of the fallow land.

As soon as Remy registered the creatures presence, a white cloak flashed from his peripheral to his main field of vision, and he watched as Kardala barreled into the wolf, throwing it off balance.

The animal rolled onto its back, but threw its momentum its completing the roll, easily jumping to its feet. After it was righted, which only took, maybe ten seconds, turning back towards Kardala and charging, pink saliva forming ropes between its upper and lower jaw as it opened its mouth in preparation to bite.

A line of black cable shot in front of its paw, wrapping around its forearm a few times. Remy watched as Grey toppled over in the background as the full weight of the beast yanked against the cable. However, despite this, it was still knocked over, rolling head over heels and collapsing onto its side.

Remy’s body suddenly unfroze, and he darted forwards, pieces of a plan forming in his mind before washing away. He lunged into the air, tucking into a flip, before crashing down on the wolf that had already regained its footing. The force of the crash wobbled it slightly, distracting it as Kardala landed an uppercut to its chin.

The force of the hit sent the creature onto its hind legs, throwing Remy to the ground. Using this as an opportunity, the creature brought up one giant paw, its claws glinting in the light, as it brought its natural weapons across Kardala’s chest.

At first, the wound didn’t seem too deep, though the tear it left in her cloak was obvious.

That was, until the blood began to trickle out. Then seep out. Then the wound began to bleed in torrents.

Kardala shivered, and, on came Irene.

The wound looked ten times worse on her small form. Her mouth was agape in shock as she collapsed to her hands and knees. Remy hardly even noticed the two cables wrapping around the wolf’s neck, tearing its attention away.

“Irene, run!”

* * *

 

“Irene, run!”

Shock, agony, and nausea tore through Irene’s body, all at once, as she regained control of the body. It took her a few deep breaths and several quick blinks to realize where she was.

In the middle of a slowly growing puddle of her own blood.

She watched, calmly, for a few moments, breathing in a relaxed manner, before the shock wore off.

Oh. She was sitting in a pool of her own blood.

Irene swallowed the bile rising in her throat, shakily, slowly, getting to her feet.

Her vision was, hazy, but as she regained her balance, the dark clouds in the edges began to clear.

Though she was almost positive that she was hallucinating from blood loss when the grey blur mere yards away turned into a huge, wolf.

Okay. Yep. Definitely hallucinating.

“Irene! Run! Now!”

Remy’s voice ripped through the buzzing in her ears, reminding her that, oh, she was bleeding, badly, and needed to get out of there, now.

She muttered an obscenity under her voice as she got her bearings of the situation. Okay. All of the Enhanced Division. Big wolf. Forest.

Irene ran.

She wasn’t exactly sure where she was headed, but she just needed to be _away_.

Blindly, she found herself heading for the forest, blood trailing behind her, soaking into the fallow ground. Pain and panic and fear all warred for control in her mind, and none had come out victorious by the time she crashed into the forest, lacking the energy and focus to push the assaulting branches out of the way.

She had no idea how long she’d been running when her legs gave out, and she collapsed in a sea of underbrush.

Her eyes threatened to close, threatened to send her into anxiousness, but, no, who knew if that wolf her in here.

So, Irene found herself on her stomach, hands grasping at the grass as she steadily grew more delirious.

Footsteps.

Calm, steady, footsteps, standing out against the far away noises of battle.

The footsteps seemed to bring Irene back to reality. Slowly, agonizingly, she hauled herself to her hands and knees, then to her feet.

Footsteps. Alright. Maybe it was Remy. Or, someone who could help her. She knew she was going to pass out at this rate.

So, slowly, agonizingly, she made her way towards the footsteps, more so stumbling than walking.

They stopped.

The footsteps stopped, and were replaced by voices.

She was closer to them, now. The voices were hushed, which, only peaked her curiosity.

Quietly, now, she stumbled closer, balancing so that only the balls of her feet touched the ground as she tred.

She got to the point where she was close enough to hear their words, but not close enough to see their faces. As slow as a cat creeping towards its prey, she lowered herself to the ground, hiding in the underbrush.

“This had better be important. It’s not going to be easy to explain to the others, to _Elxa_ , why I disappeared in the middle of a battle.”

She had to think for a moment before she recognized the voice.

Jamie.

“I know, I know.” The nervous, hushed voice was easy to pin down. Addison. “But this is important. I, need to talk to you, about what Potts is working on.”

“Oh. Oh! Ok, uh.” There was a brief rustling noise that sounded like Jamie was looking in her pocket for something. “Okay. Here. What?”

“You, saw the blackout, last night. Right?”

“Yeah. What of it?”

“Well, that was, an experiment gone wrong, so to speak. _The_ experiment, to be more exact. It, didn’t go as planned.”

“And this is important, why?”

“Because, well, you are aware how, Martine likes to swear on the name of Aarin?”

“Yeah. Who isn’t?”

“Well, I, at the experiment. I got a last name.”

“Which was?”

“Kurtz. Aarin Kurtz.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

* * *

 

“You’re absolutely sure this can’t be tracked?” Irene asked worriedly, one hand nervously clenching and unclenching around a handful of blanket.

“Don’t worry, I made sure about it. Disabled the webcam, microphone, speaker, everything.” Remy responded, tapping away at the laptop sitting on his lap.

The darkness around the two was all enveloping, except for the light from the screen. They sat on Remy’s bed, breathing quiet and voices hushed, as to not wake any of the others.

“Where did, you get it, the laptop, anyway?”

“Lid.”

“He gave you his laptop?”

“No. I took it. But he’s busy with something. He won’t be back for a few hours.”

“Alright. Uh, let’s do this, then.”

Remy hummed in agreement, opening a window on the screen. It opened to some page he didn’t recognize, but that wasn’t important. He quickly opened a new tab and sent it to Google.

“Do you know how to spell it?” He questioned.

“I mean, I’d assume it’s just, A-R-R-I-N K-U-R-T-S, or, maybe it’s a Z. Yeah, try a Z.” She answered.

“Alright, uh,” Remy quickly tapped in the name and pressed enter, “Well, having a, wikipedia page, isn’t a, great sign”

Remy clicked on the first result: the wikipedia page. It took a moment to load, but, as soon as it did, he immediately noticed that it was, strange. The page was short, with no pictures to speak of.

“Aarin Kurtz, unknown birth date to April twenty-fourth, two thousand eight, was an American mafia boss who organized several drug smuggling and protection racketeering operations. She was indicted on January 3rd, two thousand seven in a private trial. Her sentence is redacted, as is what she was convicted for. She was killed by redacted during a prison riot at redacted correctional facility. Like, half the article is just, gone. That’s it.”

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t there be more?”

“I mean, there should be. I assume there should be. But, there isn’t.”

“Swearing on the name of a deceased mob boss. That’s, new.”

“I mean, it’s Martine.”

“You aren’t wrong.”

* * *

 

“Mary, shut down all electronics in the United States of America.”

Mary’s head throbbed, pain pulsing from the bridge of her nose to her temples. Bile rose in her throat, but her body had not enough energy to vomit. Her breathing was labored, and her head threatened to slump forwards, but fear of the gun pressed to her temple kept it stiffly upright.

“Martine! You’d, you’d be cutting off power to, to hospitals! And,  and, and and vehicles and, stoplights and, people depending on technology to live! You’re gonna kill a lot of people, like, that’s not what I want!”

Richard’s voice grated at her mind like a claw, tearing behind her eyes.

“I don’t think so. I love you Dick, but I just don’t think you had what it takes to follow it through.”

“Uh Mary, belay that order? Don’t, don’t do that. Please, that’s, you don’t want to be responsible for that.”

Mary recognized the tone of Nadiya’s voice, but her mind we too muddled to make out the words she spoke. Despite the fear controlling her, the little energy keeping her head upright dissipated, and it slumped forwards in defeat.

Noise filled the room- shouting, crashes, what had to be Martine’s laser vision firing. Still, all she could make out was the cold steel of a muzzle pressed to her temple.

Until it was gone.

The terror that had clouded her judgement and numbed the tips of her fingers was extinguished, replaced with raw fury. Anger wrought energy she didn’t think she had left, and, in a moment, she reared her head upwards, blurry vision locked on Martine. Pain tore through her throat as she shouted:

“You, shithead! You were gonna make me kill thousands of people! Probably millions! Screw you!”

Rage coursed through her like adrenaline, and, almost as if they had a mind of her own, her powers grabbed onto, something, something as big as the entire Berg, tearing it apart, piece by piece by piece.

People were, talking, but she couldn’t understand a word in the muddled mess. Remy said, her name, in the same sentence as the word ‘stop.’ He wanted her to stop? No, she couldn’t, not now. Remy, she could, she looked around the room, where, where was everyone? What had, what did she do?

“N-no, I can’t stop anything. Um. I’ve sent them away, I’ve split it all up-“ She spoke, sure she only sounded half coherent.

“You did great.”

“No you did awesome, but, but we’re still here, and we really need to get out of here and it’d be a lot easier if you weren’t tearing the base apart while that was happening.”

Oh, that made, sense. Tearing the Berg apart, huh? Heh, it was what the fuckers deserved.

“Can you walk?”

She was, probably, maybe? She wasn’t sure. She was exhausted but, she could probably still manage it. But, walk where? If the Berg was gone, where was there to go? Away. Yes, just, away. Anywhere. Not the Berg. Anywhere else.

“I, can, um, wait a minute. I have an idea.”

She tore her powers from their sentient, feral state, grabbing onto, something, a, skimmer, yes. If she could just get it to them.

Her powers flared, the last scraps of energy she had awakening the machine, making it speed forward, and, up, and up, and, to them. Just to them.

It crashed through the wall, sending an instinctive wince to her. No, no, it wasn’t working, it wouldn’t turn on. They were trapped here with Martine and-

Mary hazily registered as Nadiya took her hand, helping her up from the chair, stabilizing her once she was to her feet. Now, now they were moving. Alright. She put all her focus into making her way to, wherever Nadiya was leading her. Where wasn’t important. It was away. That’s what mattered.

Ok, she was, sitting down, now. Alright. She opened her eyes, her hazy vision registering where she was. A skimmer. Oh, yeah, this was, the skimmer she had just called down. Alright. It meant away.

Mary let herself practically collapse into the seat, exhaustion taking over. Her limbs felt like lead, and her eyelids too. A sound of, clapping, shook the vehicle. She would’ve flinched had she had the energy to.

No, the, the skimmer was awake now! She shook herself awake, hair raising in a furious halo as she took control of the vehicle once again.

“Hang on to something!” She shouted as the vehicle sped forwards, and up, and up, and _away from the Berg_. Away. Just away.

People were talking, voices, Nadiya, and Kardala and Remy and, Richard. Whatever. She was safe. It was alright.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re doing okay, d’you, are you the one flying this thing right now? With your uh brain powers?”

Oh he was, talking to her. Alright. She took a small part of her focus from flying the vehicle to respond, though pain seared her throat as she did.

“Mmhm. Where’d you wanna go?”

“The White House, I guess?”

“And what’re you gonna do?”

“Hand over the king of America? I dunno I’m just thinkin’ out loud.”

“You know the White House isn’t a prison, right Remy? Like we could go to like, Joliet, or, I don’t know.” Nadiya, yeah, that was Nadiya talking.

“Yeah but you can’t just like take a guy to jail and be like ‘Here I got- got a new one for ya.’”

Mary restrained herself from laughing, knowing it would tear up her throat.

“That’s true.”

“Wh,what exactly, uh, crime, do you want him to be charged with?”

“Sedition. Treason.”

“Treason’s a good one, I mean he did sort of broadcast his treason to all of America so I think it’d be pretty easy to make a case.”

Treason, yeah. Treason against what? Some bullshit country that cared nothing for its inhabitants? Or was her head just swimming?

“Maybe. Maybe, he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

“Well okay.”

“Alright, but-”

No. She was too tired to argue. Far too tired.

“You tell me where to take him and we’ll take him there.”

“I like the idea of the White House, I don’t know about you all, but I think it could be fun.”

“I dunno, maybe the Pentagon?”

“Why does the color of the house figure into our decision?”

“Oh, great.”

“That was a joke.”

“Oh it was, hey!”

“Oh!”

“That one was actually a joke!”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

Away. Away. Away.

Mary fought to open her eyes, just, to see, away. To see that she was away from the Berg, safe.

Though her eyelids felt like lead, she slowly, exhaustingly, pried them open.

White, just white. No, no, no! That wasn’t the color of away!

Mary tried to sit up, and everything came flooding back to her.

* * *

 

Nadiya spent much of her time in small rooms, still, poring over some experiment or tapping away at a computer. She had no problem sitting still for hours at a time, in fact, it’s what she spent most of her time doing.

But, now, trapped in a room, with no idea where she was, or where her, teammates, were, she found herself pacing.

A dull pain pierced her shoulder with every breath, no matter how deep or shallow she breathed. She couldn’t tell how long she had been at it, but it was long enough to make her legs ache and her hands fidget. Still, she didn’t see what else there was to do. Back, forth, back, forth. Over and over. From when end of the room to the other, reminding her, that she was, trapped.

She eyed the short, knee-height bookshelf, populated by, five books, she counted, though she didn’t recognize any. She could try to read, to give herself a break. No, no. There was no way she would be able to focus, not now, not here.

Nadiya was awoken from her musings by the clattering and clinging of metal against metal. She immediately stiffened, ears pricking as she identified the noise to be coming from the door.

She watched, having trouble standing now that she wasn’t moving, as the steel door keeping her encaged, opened.

The first thing she noticed about the woman who pushed her way through the door was her hair. It was an unnaturally pale blonde, braided neatly and hanging just below the centerpoint of her shoulder blades. She wore a lab coat that was too long for her, hanging down to her thighs, the sleeves rolled up, and seemingly sewed that way.

She pushed the door open with her back, walking backwards into the room. The heavy door drifted shut behind her, closing with a solid click.

The latina woman turned around, slowly, seeming not to spill, whatever she was holding.

This somehow awoke Nadiya from her still trance, and, at once, alarm bells blared in her mind.

She immediately backpedaled like a frightened animal, getting close to the wall, but not so close that she would back herself into a corner. She raised her hands threateningly, a cold shiver running up her spine as she morphed her fingers into long, sharp claws. She scanned the woman for weapons, though, finding none did not relax her fears.

“Woah, there.” The voice was, familiar, but not so that she could put a name to the face. “Calm down. Just brought ya’ somethin’ to eat.”

The woman’s brown-eyed gaze met hers and, oddly, a feeling of cold ran through her, starting at her temples, then coursing through each and every one of her veins. The cold was, unnatural, yet, calming, not acute, like the taste of mint.

Almost instantly, Nadiya’s quickened breathing slowed to a steady, relaxed pace, and she felt, calm.

“Alright. There. Calm.” The latina woman spoke, in a manner as if not to spook a frightened equine. “This should be easy to eat, you’re probably still nauseous.”

She calmly placed the bowl she was carrying on top of the short bookshelf, slowly walking out of the room, locking the door behind her. The whole time, she didn’t break eye contact with Nadiya.

As soon as Nadiya’s gaze was no longer connected with the woman’s brown eyes, the calm trance seemed to shatter. Her breathing returned to its panicked pace, as did her heartbeat.

Still, residual traces of minty serenity remained in the back of her mind, and, hey, she _was_ kind of hungry.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy loses hope. Irene takes a risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apolagies for the shorter chapter, next one will be long and I wanted to preface it with this.

Remy’s unfocused gaze lazily looked up at the grey, oddly smooth ceiling above. The feeling of the mattress beneath him was muffled, as was a slight chill from the blanket on the floor not being draped over his body.

Chris Rembrandt was, _exhausted_.

It had been a blissful four days since their last mission, though he could still feel the soreness in his muscles from how much he had exerted himself.

He grumbled as his alarm clock began its second round of obtrusive beeps. Slowly, he hauled himself to a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing to his feet.

It almost reminded him, of, well, how he felt before joining the fellowship. Hauling himself out of bed every morning with no hope that things were going to get better, but no will to make them so. After his parents disappeared-

_Bad thought, bad thought, Chris._

Remy quickly changed into dayclothes before shoving his way from his room to the common.

It was still dark, though the light above the table flickered and danced every few moments. He stumbled to his seat, collapsing into it and placing his forehead on the table like a tired schoolkid. He considered making something for breakfast but, no, he was too tired. Maybe he would have lunch.

Remy’s mind hardly registered as the others exited their rooms, taking their seats around the table. At first, Irene had always given off a, hopeful, excited energy. But not now. Her exhaustion was just as prevalent as his.

In his head, he counted up the days they had been here. Seventy three, now. Not counting the month he and Irene had been in the security wing’s prison ward. Almost two and a half months. It was spring, now. Early April.

Remy just wanted to go home.

“Want anything for breakfast?” Irene asked, voice as half-hearted as he expected. “I could make something.”

“Nah.” Remy responded.

He tuned out as Sylvain and Grey got into one of their squabbles, and, when the mission alarm went off, he understood why they hadn’t jumped at the noise on his and Irene’s first mission.

* * *

 

The brush of the tall grass painted dew onto Remy’s lower legs as he made his way across the oversized, and overgrown, meadow surrounding the abandoned factory they were making their way towards. Blankly, he turned on his watch, a blue hologram screen, about the size of a postcard, springing from it at once.

A photokinetic, manipulator of light. Psyche damaged, yada yada. Same thing as always. He closed it by placing his hand over the watch screen, shoving the hand back in his pocket.

He tried to focus on the sounds around him, as the factory was still quite far out of reach. The grass rustling around his feet, the noise of something, probably a rabbit or squirrel, bounding through the green, and, of course, the footsteps and breathing of Irene and Addison.

It was, oddly, the first time the three had been together in a group. Usually, they would walk in two groups, Jamie, Grey, Remy, and Kardala, and Elxa, Sylvain, Lid, and Dagney, while Addison and Flanagan would follow behind in their own group.

This mission was slightly, different, though. Surprise was of the essence. Sure, they were in an abandoned building, but said building was quite close to several inhabited ones. Even a smaller blast of light would alert the neighbors like a flare blast, and they wouldn’t have time to retreat to the JetPlane before the authorities arrived. So, Remy was the only one going in this time. Get in, get out.

“Addison.” Irene spoke up, voice sounding oddly, serious.

“Yeah?” Addison responded. Their voice was always tinged by a hint of nervousness, regardless of emotion.

“Fuck it.” Remy pricked an ear. Irene hardly ever swore, especially not outside of the heat of battle. “What, is Potts working on?”

There was a nervous pause before they responded.

“Potts is dead, Irene. He was crushed by debris is the destruction of the Berg.”

“Then what’s he working on?”

Addison chewed their cheek, hesitant, before shoving a hand in their pocket and taking out a small, black, cylindrical device, about the size of a bottle cap, though about four times as tall. They twisted the top and bottom halves in seperate directions, and, in a moment, the halves moved away from each other, revealing part of the cylinder which was a vivid cyan and the same texture as a speaker.

“It’s a code word, Irene. A signal to activate this. An EMP. To disable the listening devices in our suppressors.”

“There’s listening devices?”

“You thought there wasn’t? There is. There absolutely is. Sometimes it’s better for Martine to not hear some things.”

“The experiments?”

“Oh, she knows about those. She’s the one who insisted upon them.”

“What, experiments?” Remy piped up.

“There are some things that are better for you two not to know.”

* * *

 

A silver-haired woman watched the computer screen ahead of her intently, singular eye scanning back and forth as she read the text displayed on it. Every few moments, the silence of the room was broken by a singular tap of the space bar, the text on the screen replaced itself with more.

She looked up from her nigh trance-like state as the door was pushed open. The corners of her mouth turned up as a shorter, black-haired woman stepped through, but the smile was quickly replaced by a worried frown as she saw her wife’s defeated countenance.

“No luck?” She asked, turning around in her swivel chair to face her.

“No luck. We were _so close_ , but the photokinetic’s flash made us lose sight of Remy, and, I guess he fled while we were regaining vision.”

“Poor kid.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think Martine told him? And the others?”

“Eh, probably that we’ve been psychologically damaged by our powers or something.”

“Or that it was all Dick’s fault.”

The shorter woman collapsed into her own chair as she responded, “Oh, yes, all his fault.”

“Hey, you never know. She could’ve told them that she purposefully shot Dick.”

“No one would believe that.”

“She’s a good talker.”

“You aren’t wrong.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy decides enough is enough. Irene regains hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gore, animal attacks, and minor self mutilation.

The morassy ground sank slightly beneath Remy’s feet as he tore down the scarp bridging the gap between the road and the forest. Brown mush, too thin to be mud and too thick to be water, splashed around his shoes, coating his lower legs.

The downward slope as well as the slippery ground nearly made him fall, but he managed to keep his balance, continuing his chase of the mat-furred wolf.

It was unheard of for a triumvirate to all have the same enhancements, but, through luck or some feature of the stimplants, a trio had all been given the same power: Wolf shifting.

Cane had originally been part of the trio, but they had become separated. The two remaining, Lup and Pulse, had remained together, and, despite being outnumbered, were quite a foe for the team.

Muck was thrown back at him as Pulse’s paws kicked up groundwater, obscuring his vision of him. It was hard to differentiate between wolf and ground, as the creature’s fur was caked with dry mud, sticking up like peaks of meringue. The darkness of night didn’t help, either. The canine’s panting was hardly audible over the roar of the skimmers behind him.

The battle was meant to be easy. Get in, get out.

However, the rebels had been hounding them recently. The actual enhanceds they were trying to rescue became second priority to fending off Litti and his forces. It had only become more of a priority after they had captured Dagney, maybe a month back.

Pulse’s tail jerked to the side as the creature threw its momentum into a turn. It accelerated with a few bounding strides, blurring far ahead of Remy and blending even more with the ground.

Remy gritted his teeth and threw himself into the air, landing in front of the creature, though his back was turned to it. He began to turn around to face the canine, but, in the few seconds that his leg was raised during the pivot, the wolf dove.

Pain. Sheer raw pain shot through his leg, spiderwebbing through his nerves. He felt the teeth break through his skin, tearing, pushing, until they created a puncture, like a kid pressing a half-sharpened pencil into a deflated balloon.

As if playing with a chew toy, the wolf jerked its head to the side, tearing Remy completely off balance and throwing him to the ground. Muck splashed up in response, coating his face, neck, and most of his clothes. While he was still distracted, the wolf let go, palpably removing its teeth from his flesh. In a blur of muddy fur, it was off, running  up the scarp and to the street, presumably to fight alongside its comrade.

Remy hauled himself to his hands and knees, then to his feet, tearing after Pulse, trying his best not to trip as a result of the mud sucking at his shoes. Though the scarp was steep, adrenaline drove him up it, depositing him on the street where the rest found themselves locked in battle.

He watched as Pulse charged forwards towards Lup, a red wolf, who was locked in gory battle with Lid. Just as Lid was about to land a slash across Lup’s face, Pulse barreled into him, sending him flying as the hundred pound apex predator headbutted him.

“Jamie!” Grey shouted above the ruckus. Two cables wrapped themselves around Pulse’s neck, knocking him prone on his back.

“On it!” Jamie shouted, skidding in from where she had been hanging back from the main battle. The two traded places, and Jamie grabbed a handgun from its holster on her belt, aiming it haphazardly and pulling the trigger. A flash of red shot from its muzzle, landing firmly in Pulse’s fur.

“Remy! I can handle this! Help Grey and Kardala!” She ordered as Lup rose to her feet behind her.

Without hesitation, Remy nodded, turning, taking care not pivot on his injured leg, and running into the fray of battle.

Two skimmers were parked in the center of the road, facing different directions but meeting at the rudder.

They just slightly outnumbered rebel forces, eight to six. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. Addison and Flanagan were off hiding, somewhere, while Elxa had excluded herself from this battle due to her power, binocular vision, being less than adept for battle. So, five to six. And Jamie was busy with the wolves. Four to six.

Outnumbered almost two to one. Alright.

Grey and Lid, who had quickly recovered from his scuffle with Pulse, frenziedly fended off three attackers, one of which Remy recognized as Rin, the young, golden-haired woman with a sword extending from her arm like a mermaid’s fin. However, he didn’t recognize the person hanging off Kardala’s back like a cape, animalistic claws digging into her neck. The two remaining rebels were back near the plane, one talking into some sort of earpiece, the other tending to their wounded arm.

One of them then. It seemed the others had their situations covered. If he could just buy some time for Jamie, they could get out of here.

They hadn’t seemed to notice him, too busy with their own preoccupations, and he used this to his advantage. Giving the fight between Lid, Grey, and their attackers a wide berth, he ran to the side of one of the skimmers, using the wing as a boost to climb onto its roof. Mud, clinging to his clothes and hair, dripped onto the smooth metal, disrupting its pristine surface with trails of muck.

On his hands and knees, keeping low, Remy crawled to the part of the roof directly above the cockpit. Like a cat preparing to pounce, he braced his feet, flat, against the metal, and, taking a deep breath, he sprung.

A flip mid-air stopped his forward momentum, and he twisted like a cat turning to land on its feet, landing so that he was facing the shorter woman speaking into her earpiece. Obviously, her first reaction was surprised.

“Remy!” She spoke as if her friend had just scared her, though her tone of voice was contrasted in the defensive manner in which she raised her arms.

This took him off guard, but only for a moment, as a second later he had a punch aimed directly at the woman’s neck.

She took a step back, frustration and fear and betrayal all culminating on her countenance, and raised a hand, grasping his wrist. The force behind his hit forced her back a step so that her back was almost flush with the skimmer.

Her hazel eyes met his. They were squinted, angry. Not angry like she was in the heat of battle, but, like she had just been betrayed by an old friend.

He gave up on that hit, having lost too much momentum, and clenched his other fist.

That was, until the woman held out a palm in his direction, and all coherent thoughts in his mind ceased.

Remy dropped to his knees as the earsplitting shriek ripping through the air physically tore at his ears, his mind, behind his eyes. His breathing grew quick and shallow and his heartbeat quickened as he instinctively pressed his hands to his ears. He was immediately reminded of Mary and her migraines, how she seemed to hear some sound they couldn’t.

When the sound stopped he was left on his knees, teeth gritted, eyes clenched closed, ears ringing.

The first thing he heard when his hearing cleared was a hastily stated, “sorry,” followed by the shouted command of, “focus!”

Then hell broke loose.

As if pulled together by some mysterious glitch of gravity, the groundwater from the scarps on either side of the road were drawn together, splashing out into an explosion of muddy liquid. Before they could reach the ground, however, like the flame of a hot air balloon engine, fire spat out from the hand of one of the rebels.

Steam filled the battlefield like a mushroom cloud, blinding Remy from everything further than one foot in front of his face.

“Twins! Wolves! Now!” Came Elxa’s voice from god knows where. Noises of battle, shouting, growling, ripped through the air, as Remy looked around frantically.

A shout erupted from his own mouth as hands grabbed his neck, pulling him off balance. He was forced backwards, one foot on the ground, one in the air, straight out, almost falling to his back. Instead, he threw the momentum into a back handspring, pushing off his hands just in front of his attacker, who was too dazed to react, and landing right behind them.

While they were still distracted, he roundhouse kicked them from behind, sending them tumbling to the ground.

“Withdraw!”

Remy pricked his ears to Elxa’s command as the steam cleared.

The wolves were gone, Lid and Grey had broken away from individual battles to flee down the road, and Kardala wasn’t far behind them. Jamie, however, was desperately fighting off three people with the butt of her handgun, a panicked expression clear on her face.

Remy turned to look at the others fleeing, then Jamie, then the others, then Jamie.

Fuck it.

“Kardala!” He shouted as he tore towards the battle. In a single fluid movement, he leaped into the air, flipped head over heels, thrice, and, as he was about to land on top of one of Jamie’s attackers, grabbed them by the neck, flipping once more, them still in his grasp, and slammed them into the ground, leaving himself in a heap on top of them.

“Withdraw!” Came two voices in unison. He was sure one was Sylvain, while the other was distinctly unrecognizable, to him at least.

No, not until Jamie was safe. He wasn’t going to let any more of his friends get hurt.

The person underneath him sprung to their feet, knocking him off like a rearing horse. He leaped to his feet as well, preparing to continue the fight, but, no, they were fleeing back to the skimmer.

With Jamie, carried limply by the leader of the fleeing group.

No! No!

He glanced over at Kardala, who was already preparing to chase them.

There were four of them, two to one if they tried to fight. Even with Kardala, he couldn’t risk her turning back to Irene and being seriously injured. He didn’t know what he would do if she left. His only true friend in this hellhole-

“Follow me!”

Kardala looked up, white glowing eyes flaring with flames of bellicosity, and nodded sharply as she began to chase after him.

Reaching speeds only Sylvain should have been capable of, Remy sprinted to the edge of the road, down the scarp, across the short stretch of morass, and into the dense forest beyond. With Kardala close behind, he jerked away from his straight shoot into the woods, veering behind a tall, thick bush.

“Stay here for a sec.” He commanded before even stopping to catch his breath, leaping straight upwards like a surprised cat. He landed in a crouching position, the balls of his feet braced against the tree branch that was his perch while his hands grasped onto it.

The skimmers were still docked, though one had its engine running, as he could tell by the loud rumbling noise it emitted. Four of the rebels were still outside of them, speaking in worried tones, with one talking into an earpiece.

“We need to get on that plane.”

“Plane?”

Remy looked down from his wooden perch, seeing a distressed Irene pressing her hands against her neck, only for them to be covered in fresh trails of scarlet. He had almost entirely forgotten about the clawed rebel Kardala had been fighting earlier, but now, on Irene’s smaller stature, it was obvious that she was quite wounded.

Of course, how could he have been so impetuous! They needed to get back to the JetPlane, now! She wouldn’t make it much longer without losing consciousness.

The roaring of a plane engine filled the air and, a moment later, the familiar sight of a JetPlane shot up into the sky, leaving behind nothing but a trail of exhaust.

“Uh, hey, Irene, can you run?”

“I can try.”

“Alright, cause, uh, we’re getting on that skimmer.”

There was a slight gasp of surprise, but it was quickly cut off by a sigh.

“We can’t run away, Remy.”

His gaze turned from the skimmers to Irene, who had taken off her jacket and was using it’s sleeve as a makeshift washcloth to soak up the blood.

“What do you mean?”

“We both want to leave this, Martine, shit. It’s obvious. I’m with you, I want nothing more than to go home. I don’t want to be, fighting, for the rest of my life. But we can’t leave.”

“The JetPlane left! We can’t go back if we want to!”

“We don’t _want_ to. We _have to_ . You remember Mary, and Halleluland. It was the middle of nowhere, completely abandoned. Yet they found where she was. If we leave, and, go back to our families, _they’re going to find us_. Not to mention the-”

“The earrings.”

“Yeah. They, can’t be removed, without _fucking power tools_.”

“They can.”

“I think we’ve both tried plenty of times.”

Remy narrowed his eyes.

“They can be removed.”

Fuck this. Fuck all of this. This was his chance, there was no way he was going back to that hellhole to drag himself out of bed every morning, the only thing driving him being that he would get to sleep at the end of the day. He was going to see his brother again. Fuck this.

Remy took a firm grasp of the first metal helix earring, and yanked.

Pain.

A red hot flash of pain shot through him, making his fingers tremble and his teeth chatter. The instability it brought him made him fall from his perch, collapsing in a heap on the dirt.

Sheer fury shoved the pain to the back of his mind, and, as if he were tearing staples from a piece of paper, he ripped the earrings from his flesh. Warm blood trickled down his fingers but _he didn’t care_.

Remy was gasping and panting by the time he had finished, and he couldn’t tell the difference between the blood and tears running down his face.

“Remy! Remy! What was _that_!”

Irene’s voice slowly grew less fuzzy as he looked up, meeting her terrified gaze.

“I-”

Remy looked down at his hand, soaked in his own fresh blood.

What the hell had he just done?

He looked up at Irene, and, saw blood running down the sides of her face as well. Her countenance was hardened in a determined look, though he could see that she was gritting her teeth to block out the pain.

She had ripped out her earrings too.

“Let’s get on that plane.”

Remy, wide-eyed, nodded, shakily standing to his feet. He used his sleeve to wipe some of the blood from his ear, before finding it futile.

“Okay. There’s no cover, so we’re going to have to run. We get to the back of the skimmer, and, hope to god that there's an open door.”

“And, if there isn’t?”

“Then we hope Parsons was wrong about the rebels.”

Remy gave a grunt of agreement before taking a deep breath, and tearing out into the morass. Mud sucked at his shoes, and pain, from his ears, from his leg, from his mind, all ripped and grabbed at his focus, but he kept going. Up the scarp, onto the road, the sound of Irene’s footsteps a constant reminder behind him.

The smell of exhaust overpowered his senses as he darted behind the skimmer. It looked perfectly smooth, blast, like, the cell, back in the security wing. No, no, he was free from there now. But if he gets caught trying to escape, who knows if he’ll just go back there, forever-

No.

His eyes caught a glint of grey, and he thought he was about to start tearing up once more.

An open entrance. _The plane had an open entrance_.

The repeated thought of “freedom, freedom, freedom” was all he could think as he tore towards the entrance, up the ramp leading to it, and into the plane.

He had been with the fellowship long enough to know what the skimmers looked like. They were divided into three parts: The cockpit, which contained technical tools only used by the remote pilot, the cabin, and cargo compartment.

The cargo compartment of this skimmer was pitch black, except for the meager moonlight shining in from the outside. Remy turned around, making a “follow me” gesture to Irene, before walking further in.

It contained a few tubs with labels that he didn’t have enough light to read, and nothing else. The crunchy, felt-like carpet below crackled as he made his way to the far back of the compartment, collapsing in the corner.

Irene collapsed beside him, panting, but, even in the low light, he could see the light upward tilt of the edge of her mouth.

Freedom.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy searches for an exit. Irene has an unexpected meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for detailed description of bone breakage.  
> Time to fistfight birdie in an alley.

The low, constant humming of the skimmer’s engine sounded in Remy’s ears as he crouched on the thinly carpeted floor of the cargo compartment.

The sickly feeling of warm blood was muffled by the thin fabric of Irene’s jacket as he pressed the torn-off sleeve against the gash on her neck. The bleeding seemed to be winding down, but scarlet was still soaking through the fabric, drying on his hand. 

Every bounce or jerk of the skimmer sent a stab of pain through his leg, which, in turn, ignited the pain in his ears. 

Remy couldn’t tell how long they had been in the air, now. The cargo compartment contained no windows to speak of, and he had thrown his watch out the hatch before the plane took off, cause god knew that was being tracked too. 

He used the edge of the sleeve, that was slightly drier, to wipe off the last trickles of blood from her neck before pulling it away. Dried crimson stained her neck, but, luckily, the gash didn’t seem too deep. It had likely hit an artery, he figured. 

“Do, we have a plan once we land?” Irene asked, hissing in pain as the plane hit a particularly turbulent patch of sky. 

“I, mean, I don’t know where we’re going to land, but,” he sighed, leaning up against the wall, which seemed to be covered in the same carpet-like material of the floor, “I just want to go to my brothers place. Work from there.”

“Yeah. Makes sense. I want to go back to my family, too.”

“Mhm. Maybe we can help Nadiya, too.”

“If she’s alive.”

“What do you mean?”

“You hadn’t considered that she’s, probably dead? We don’t know what those rebels are like. They very well could have killed her.”

“Guess all we can do is hope.”

He was sure the plane must have flown for another hour, or two, before his stomach dropped at its nigh-vertical descent. 

From what he could tell, the skimmer had just thrown itself into a nose-dive, and was shooting downwards through the sky. Instinctively, Remy twisted around, throwing his arms around the tub that had been pressing against his shoulder. The tubs were shoved against the wall, despite the plane being almost vertical. 

With a single great crash, the tubs were thrown into the air, and the plane turned horizontal once more. Remy was thrown into the air, landing on his back, solidly knocking the breath out of his lungs. 

The skimmer slowly rolled to a stop on some sort of runway as he caught his breath. It made one final, sharp turn, and the engines gradually grew silent and still.  

Remy flopped from his back to his stomach, hauling himself to his hands and knees as he scanned the cargo compartment. 

The tubs seemed to be, in the exact same place as they had been before, and, despite how the turbulence had thrown him, he was only a yard or so away from where he had started. Irene lay on her side, in an almost fetal position, gasping for breath, her eyes clenched closed. 

On shivering limbs, Remy got to his feet, stumbling to her side. 

“You alright?” He asked, teeth chattering slightly. 

Irene mumbled something, but all he was able to make out was, “S-solid ground?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re on solid ground. We gotta get out, now, before they come back here.”

“Alright.” She stammered, hauling herself to her feet. Her arms were wrapped herself, and she was visibly shaking like a leaf. 

Remy made his way to the entrance from whence they came, curling his hand around the handle, which was a divot in the carpet-like surface of the door that contained a flap of sorts, one clearly intended to undo the latch holding the door closed. He squeezed the latch, but, the flap didn’t budge, and the door wouldn’t open. 

No. He wasn’t going to be a sitting duck in here. 

He reared a fist back and slammed it into the fiberglass door.

Nothing. Not even a dent.

He hit the door again, and again, and again until his knuckles were bleeding and his vision was hazy.

“Stand back.”

Irene’s voice was somewhat muffled due to his rage, but he followed her command, stepping away from the door.

Irene stalked to the door, holding a black, steel crowbar across her chest like a sword.

She stuck the flat head between the edge of the door and the wall, and, straining against the metal door, shoved.

Remy saw her intent, and joined in, pushing his own weight against the bar, until, after his muscles ached and he felt unsteady on his feet, it popped.

They fell to the ground as the crowbar flung across the compartment and the hatch swung open, slamming against the wall.

He flinched at the noise, certain that they had been heard by now, but they had to push on. Far too deep in this now, too late to back out.

“Let’s just, find an exit.” Remy practically whispered as he crept out of the skimmer.

After seeing nothing but the Enhanced Division’s quarters and the abandoned buildings the rouge enhanceds loved to hang out at for so long, the sight was  _ breathtaking _ .

A great, curved ceiling of, what appeared to be some sort of, laminated concrete, rose maybe twenty feet above him. He seemed to be in a hallway of sorts, albeit one that was at least fifteen feet wide. On one end of the hallway stood an oversized, garage door, of some sort. He tried to see the other end, but the sharp turn of the curved hall made him see nothing but solid wall. The hallway walls were lined with sparsely scattered with a few vehicles, namely two other skimmers and four, cars, that he didn’t recognize the model of.

“Uh, that way, I guess.” He said, gesturing to the area he couldn’t quite see.

He waited for Irene to make her way to his side, quickly checking that she didn’t need help to walk, before beginning to make his way down the giant-sized hall.

Remy did his best to walk slowly, both for the sake of his own leg and for the sake of keeping quiet. A certain cinching air of unfamiliarity grabbed at his lungs, and his legs kept attempting stop, to not take another step. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he knew that much, but he had to keep going.

When they neared the end of the hall, he held up a hand in a ‘halt’ gesture, taking a few steps forward to see if he could see where the hallway ended.

Like a tributary, the smaller hall flowed into a great, circular part of the center of the structure. The center’s ceiling curved upwards, closing around a, shaft, of sorts, that rose through the ceiling and to, god knows where. 

The shaft was a light silvery color, and, from where he stood, Remy could see an elevator door embedded into it, as well as a smaller, normally sized hall, that was quite well-lit, that led into the center of the shaft.

If there was an elevator, that meant there must be another floor, and, judging by the chill in the air and the stale taste of his breaths, they were underground. The next floor would have to have an exit, it had to!

He was about to call back to Irene that it was safe to follow, but he was cut off by-

Footsteps.

At least three people were coming down the hall.

Instinctively, forcing his body not to freeze, he ducked behind the car he was near to, but, upon realizing they would still see him, he crawled under it, thanking, whatever god was up there, that he fit.

Chin against the ground, back pressing against the underbelly of the vehicle whenever he inhaled, Remy watched the people pass by.

He distinctly recognized them as the rebels from the fight. They seemed quite battered, hair sticking out in all directions, mud from the morrasy battleground still clinging to their clothes. 

The leader of the group, he remembered with a sudden flare of the pain behind his eyes, was a shorter, darker skinned woman, with thick square glasses and short black hair, the same one who had brought him to his knees with, sound. She must be enhanced, he figured.

Behind, well, slightly behind her, but also beside her, was a woman with short, messy white hair. Litti, he recognized. Leader of the rebel forces. In his arms was, the limp, muddy form of,  _ Jamie _ . He tensed, but, no, he could never win a fight four on one, especially not in enemy territory.

The two behind them he recognized as the pyromancer and the hydromancer that had created the mushroom cloud of steam. One was fussing over the other, picking pieces of mud from their hair.

“This isn’t something we’ve encountered before, is it?” Litti asked, looking at the shorter woman.

“Uhh, no, i think this is the only reported case of pathokinesis. Then again, we don’t have a complete index, so. I hope not, though. Hope that she’s the only one. It’s a dangerous power, both to others and, probably, to the user. Well, Fawn will have to be the judge of that.” The woman responded. Her voice was familiar, but he couldn’t quite pin it down, especially not from this distance.

“Agreed. Almost as dangerous as Simon, if not more so.”

“Yeah. Norell has her work cut out for her these days. Well, Ora and Norell.”

“You can say that again.”

Their voices faded as they disappeared down the hallway, out of sight. He closed his eyes, listening to their footsteps, until they stopped, and he heard the soft chime announcing an elevators arrival. More footsteps, but only for a moment, until he heard the doors of the elevator rumble closed.

Remy counted to ten, breathing steadily, in and out, until he was sure the chamber was silent once more. He crawled out from the car, the belly plate scraping at his spine as he did so.

“Irene?” He spoke loudly, though in a whispering tone.

“I’m here.” Came a response from across the hall, and, a moment later, the stout form of Irene appeared from behind the skimmer pressed against the opposite wall.

They shared a conciliatory nod before Remy got to his feet, leading the way down the hall.

He took a deep breath as they reached the part of the hall leading into the central chamber, before quickly making a dash across the open ground. Sure, there didn’t seem to be anyone there, but the instinct to never go without cover was ingrained in him.

He set his sights on the normally sized hall leading into the silver shaft, changing his trajectory so that he ran straight into it. He looked behind himself, seeing Irene close on his heels.

She nearly ran into him, but stopped herself. She was panting quite heavily as she stopped, which was understandable. Usually, after turning back from Kardala, she would go straight to sleep. However, though he hated to think it, he would rather her be physically exhausted than emotionally.

As soon as she caught her breath, Remy was off again, running down the short hallway, which smelled, surprisingly, like old wood and thin carpet, like the library of a church. 

At the end of the hall was a low-angle staircase. On the wall next to its base, oddly enough, was a shallow, red button.

He considered simply walking past it, but, what if it opened the door at the end of the stairs?

What could it hurt?

He placed his hand on the wall haphazardly and punched the button with his thumb.

The grinding and whirring of machinery instantly sounded, and he and Irene shared a frightened look. However, instead of, well, Remy wasn’t sure what he was expecting, the stairs simply, flipped, then tilted, creating a smooth ramp.

An uneasy feeling appeared in his chest, for no reason other than, well, the realization that he was there. He was in this building. Where he wasn’t supposed to be. And he was only trekking deeper into the lion's den. 

Regardless, he pushed on, making his way up the ramp with Irene close behind.

The ramp went upwards for, quite a ways, ending at a simple, wooden door.

Remy attempted to take a deep breath, but in his anxious state he could only manage to shallowly inhale before placing his hand on the metal knob. It sent a shiver up his spine, but, he ignored it, turning the knob and pushing forward.

The stairway opened into another, nearly identical hallway as the last. Small, wooden, with the smell of a church library.

He felt his body freeze up, but, no, he had to do this, for Irene’s sake if anything. He forced his legs to move, one in front of the other, until they were at the end of the hall.

Before them was, a curved wall. Not grand like the ones on the lower floors had been, but, quite normal. Maybe nine, teen feet tall, with a slight off-white hue, and a few scuff marks here and there.

A great crackling sounded above, and Remy’s stomach dropped to his feet.

“Attention all personnel.” The voice was, familiar, like a personified sense of deja vu. “Internal Affairs has just become aware of two intruders in the building. Please remain calm and clear the hallways so internal affairs can resolve the situation.”

He looked back at Irene, who looked just as panicked as he must, and said in a cross between a whisper and a hiss, “ _ Run _ .”

She nodded, and, with a shaky breath, Remy ran.

Throwing all his weight forwards, biting back the pain from his injured leg, he made a sharp turn to the left. 

The hall curved slightly, but, at the speed which he was going, he almost slammed into a wall when it appeared before him. 

Remy skidded to a stop like a deer in headlights. 

Before him was a roadblock of, maybe seven people, in the middle of the hall. Litti was at their lead, brandishing some sort of, dagger, at his side. Behind her were two people, standing next to each other: The shorter, black-haired woman, and a taller, silver-haired woman, with a bandage wrapped around one eye. On either side of the group were two people wearing hastily thrown on bulletproof vests, looking just as worried and confused as Remy felt. 

He looked back, behind himself, but, no, if anything, there would be more troops there, and they would be trapped. 

The hall was quite wide, and the group of people didn’t block it entirely. With a stubborn inhale, he looked back at Irene, nodded, and tore forwards. 

He shot through the narrow gap between one of the people and the wall, nearly tripping over his own feet, but managing to keep his balance. 

Remy didn’t stop to check if Irene was behind him, but the sound of her footsteps and panting were assurance enough. 

To the left was a branching hall leading to an elevator, but he knew he wouldn’t have enough to to wait. Instead he continued forward, through another gently curving hall that stopped at a wall with a large door in it. 

He looked behind him, seeing that only Litti remained on their tail. 

“Irene, keep going!” He shouted, moving to the side to let her pass. Remy threw himself into the air, twisting upside down mid-air, pushing off the wall, and flipping once before slamming into Litti. The two landed in a heap of limbs on the ground, but Remy quickly untangled himself and sped after Irene. 

“In here!” Irene shouted back to him as she ran through the automatic double doors embedded into the flat wall. Remy tore after her at such a speed that the doors had not even begun to close when he darted through. 

The room inside reeked of gasoline and smoke, like a slightly run down garage. Two doors, metal with small windows, were on either side, and, as he ran forward, there was another door to his right, but, on his left, it opened into a corridor. 

He considered turning down it, but Irene had already continued forwards and turned into another set of double doors. 

The room said doors unveiled seemed oddly like a garage. Tables, cables, and all manner of mechanical parts were scattered around. 

He could see Irene look frantically for an exit that would be on the outside of this wing of the building, but, upon finding none, ran out the set of double doors on the adjacent wall of the garage. 

Out of that door was a straight shot out of this wing of the building, with a double door set directly ahead of them. 

Remy sped past her, leading the way out the doors that opened when they detected him nearing them. 

Another gentle curving hallway was before them now, and he tore down it, now desperately looking for an exit, a window,  _ anything _ .

He ran past another set of double doors embedded into a flat wall, but continued past it, beginning to close his thoughts out, to let his body run on autopilot.

“Remy!”

In his path stood a broad-shouldered man, brown, bushy hair pushed away from his face, which was twisted in concern.

Remy skidded to a stop, digging his heels into the floor like a barrel racing horse at the end of its run. He found himself wishing for Lid’s powers, in that moment, anything to protect Irene with that wasn’t just jumping and tackling.

This man was familiar, too. His mind conjured images of a kindly smile, passing him in the halls of the Berg, but he couldn’t remember who it was.

“Remy,” He repeated, holding up his hands as if trying not to spook a wild animal.

Remy looked behind him, making sure Irene was close, and turned into the hall leading into the silvery shaft, which was on his left.

The hall led to a central area of some sort, where four staircases came together at the floor, and four more led upwards, curling around the walls. An area above the width of the hall they had just came from was between the two sets, allowing him to see out the other side of the shaft.

He looked upwards, trying to see if going up the stairs would be a viable option, but, found, quite scarily, a vault door-like structure, blocking the way between the floors.

Lockdown, then.

Fuck.

He heard footsteps chasing behind, and sped forwards, out of the other side of the shaft. 

Another flat wall with double doors embedded into it stood before him, though he was certain he had seen this one before.

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking left, and right.

People on both sides.

With a deep breath and a quick prayer to whatever deity was up there, he charged forward through the doors.

On his left was a corridor, and forward another. He continued his straight shot forwards.

No, no, he was too slow! There were footsteps behind him, more than just Irene. And in front of him, and, no, no!

Ahead was a dead end, and the corridor branching off of it was already blocked by Litti.

Remy dug his heels into the ground as his body instinctively tried not to run into the wall.

_ Pain _ .

His bad leg, the one Pulse had found toothhold in, instead of pushing against the ground to slow him, went limp, and he  _ knew  _ kneecaps were not supposed to go that way.

Remy lost his balance almost immediately, crashing to the ground, skidding to a stop in a way that his spine was pressed against the wall.

Irene skidded to a stop before him, and he could  _ see  _ her form trembling, shaking with every weak inhale.

The people were closing in on them, Litti, and, the broad-shouldered man, and the others.

Irene backed up so that she was right in front of him, acting as a shield of sorts, though he couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not.

No.

No.

He wasn’t going to let her get hurt for his sake.

He hauled himself up on his hands and knees, well, knee, with his bad leg dragging behind him limply. At an agonizingly slow pace, he hauled, or, more so dragged himself, in front of her.

Looking at the concerned faces of those now closing in on them, he realized what he must look like. Covered in dried blood, both his and Irene’s, caked with mud, his ears almost shredded.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was keeping these fucks the hell away from Irene.

A woman with shoulder-length silver dyed hair and a bandage covering one eye shoved her way to the front of the group, beside her the shorter, black-haired woman from earlier.

Her face was twisted in intense trepidation, but she seemed to be forcing herself not to panic.

“Back off, everyone. Leave the wing. You can cease lockdown.” She spoke, gesturing with a shooing motion to the small crowd that had formed.

The crowd shared an almost unanimous look of confusion, but they left without protest, leaving the area devoid of anyone except him, Irene, and the two women looking at them like worried parents.

Irene carefully stepped around Remy, walking towards the silver-haired woman, her emotion unreadable.

“Grace, what the hell is happening?”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene has updated her list of people she trusts and things she believes to nothing and nobody.

Odd, sickening air filled Mary’s lungs as she inhaled slowly, vision gradually registering the, well, notably featureless scene around her.

A sea of white expanded for as far as her eyes could see. Cold, uncaring, featureless, white.

She had been waking up less frequently recently, she mused. Or maybe it was more? She wasn’t sure. The digital clock in the wall didn’t display time, nor date, so it was impossible to know.

Her body fought for sleep, eyelids fluttering closed, but, no, no, she just needed to check. Check that she was still in this nightmare.

The smallest flutter of remaining hope sat squarely in her lungs, and a feeling of warmth spread outwards to her limbs, though she couldn’t be sure if it was due to the odd feeling of optimism in her chest, or the copious drugs being pumped into her via the twin IVs settled in her arms.

Her muscles strained as she braced her elbows against the thin mattress beneath her, a stab of pain shooting through the base of her shoulder as she put weight on it. Lungs burning, head throbbing, she raised her shoulders a few inches off the bed. Her chest ached, and her arms instinctively tried to move backwards to brace her elbows against the bed, but her wrists were held firmly in place by the biting restraints.

Mary allowed herself to collapse back to the mattress, vision hazy and arms rippling with pain.

Maybe she could try again, some other time, she mused. If she did wake up again.

And, with that, the world around her dissolved like an uncoated pill, and Mary Sage was forced back into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

“Grace, what the hell is happening?”

Irene raised a lip, baring her teeth like an aggressive dog protecting its territory.

She, couldn’t begin to explain her emotion in that moment. Anger, fear, confusion, even a slight hint of, relief? This was, Grace, her boss and, her friend, but, no, was she a rebel? Was she with Martine? Was this just another base?

“Irene, hun, I will explain everything in due time.” Grace stated calmly, holding her palms up as if attempting to calm a frightened equine. “But now, we-”

“No! Explain it to me, now! Tell me what the _fuck_ is going on! I’m done being kept in the dark, goddammit!”

Grace seemed to be about to take a step forwards, when the short, black-haired woman next to her darted between them, forming a barrier that didn’t allow either to move any closer to the other.

Grace took a step back, seemingly trying to allow the other woman to take care of the situation in her own manner.

The short woman met Irene’s gaze, her eyes flaring with bellicosity and, fear, as she grappled, something, from her belt.

Irene tensed as her eyes locked on the handgun the woman raised at her.

“Jonesy! Stand down!”

“Grace!”

“ _Stand down._ ”

Jonesy narrowed her eyes, looked to Irene, then Grace, then Irene, before stepping away, lowering her gun to her side, but not reholstering it.

“I’m sorry about that. Irene, I will explain everything. When you’re stable, alright? Jonesy, if you would get Chris-”

“No!”

Grace’s gaze turned from the black-haired woman to Irene as she shouted. Her eyes widened, though there was a, softness, to her expression.

“Honey, we aren’t going to harm-”

“Stay away from Remy!”

Irene took a step back, placing herself directly in front of Remy, who was still on his hands and knee, panting from the sheer effort of staying conscious.

“Alright. Okay.” Grace reached into a holster on her own belt, taking out a handgun of her own. She dropped it, letting it clatter to the linoleum tiles below, with the distinct sound of metal bouncing solidly rippling through the suddenly silent corridor. She raised her palms, showing that she wasn’t armed, before taking a step towards Irene.

“Irene. No one is going to harm you, or Remy, alright? Jonesy is gonna get Fawn, you remember Fawn? She’s gonna help you out, alright?”

Irene stepped back, an animalistic, growl-like noise rising in her throat. If there was anything that she had learned over the past months, it was not to trust anyone. Not Parsons, not Hugh, not Fawn, who used to be head of the nursing department of humanities, though, gods, that felt like forever ago, and _not Grace_.

“We can get you patched up and, we can see Nadiya, alright?”

* * *

 

Nadiya leaned her back against the wall, knees brought up nearly to her chest, hand running through her hair as she stared at the book propped up on her legs. She wasn’t really reading it, per say, more so just staring at the pages, picking out a few words here and there, but constantly forgetting her place.

The voice had been notably absent today, she mused. It wasn’t that she particularly enjoyed the shrouded woman speaking to her, but it staved off the worst of the loneliness.

Instead of reading, she found her ears pricked to the wall behind her.

Despite the solidity of the walls, she could still make out muffled voices, as well as footsteps. It had been like this since the first day she was here. She heard voices, but could never make out what they were saying.

Oddly, though, one of these voices seemed, familiar. Maybe it was the voice she spoke to so often? No, no, it couldn’t be. She had stated that morning that she would be away most of the day, as she was helping her wife with, something, though she refused to tell Nadiya what.

That was another notable detail about being stuck here.

The voice would tell her nothing. Not her name, not where Nadiya was, not whether she was affiliated with the fellowship. Nothing.

She turned her gaze from the off-white wall to the book in front of her, trying to focus back on it.

Still, she dared listening for just a few moments more, trying to ignore the part of her hoping desperately for the voice to be that of a friend.

* * *

 

Irene hissed in pain and clenched her fists as a long, thin needle slipped under her skin, injecting a slightly burning liquid into a vein.  

Fawn pivoted on a foot, the linoleum floor making a light squeaking sound under her sneaker as she walked over to the other side of the room.

The room was sterile, white, in a way that made Irene slightly uncomfortable for a reason she couldn’t explain. An exam table, which she found herself seated atop, was shoved flush against one wall, with a counter covered in an array of medical supplies jutting out of the opposite one. Grace and Jonesy, who had seemingly calmed down somewhat, were leaning against the wall next to the door, though Grace seemed to be somewhat distracted by some other responsibility.

“So, could you tell me again, how you got here?” Grace questioned, shaking her head as if physically shaking off a thought.

“Followed Remy onto the skimmer.” Irene responded in a low tone. Remy had been moved to another room so the damages to his leg could be examined, and she could feel the tension in her shoulders growing by the moment, but, she figured, it would be better to play along than to risk the wellbeing of him, and Nadiya.

Nadiya.

She had assumed that she was dead a while back. It seemed the only sensible option. Whether she was shot to death in that battle on the street, or perished of hypothermia while trudging to, god knows where. But now, there was, reason to believe that she was alive, and Irene’s every instinct told her to fight her way out of this room, to _find her_. But, no, she was playing along, for now. She had taken enough psychology classes to know how beneficial first impressions were, and, well, this wasn’t exactly that, as she had known Grace for years, but, it may as well be one.

“And, why would, Chris, get on the skimmer?” Grace asked, tone calm, as if she were just making casual conversation.

“Dunno. Ask him.”

“Alright, um, we can, do that. Updates on Chris’s condition?”

“Damage sustained to several muscles. Nondisplaced tibia fracture. Patella fracture. Pretty light injuries when you consider it was, well, a wolf attack. He’ll be off his feet for, maybe three months, but he’ll live.” Fawn responded absent-mindedly as she picked up a small container of sorts and brought it to the exam table at which Irene was seated.

She swirled her fingers in the container, coating them in, the odd, gel-like paste that it contained. Bemusedly, she smoothed the gel over the long, straight wounds in Irene’s neck, seemingly not noticing the way she flinched away from the touch.

A few moments after the substance was applied, an odd, uncomfortable, yet tingly feeling started in her neck, before dissipating nigh-immediately.

Fawn set the container back on the counter, rubbing the gel from her fingers with a cloth, and excusing herself from the room.

As soon as the door was closed, Irene hopped down from the exam table, ignoring the feeling in her neck, and made her way over to Grace and Jonesy.

“Now, _where is Nadiya?_ ”

Grace and Jonesy shared a glance, before Grace nodded.

“Time for introductions, I guess.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya escapes. Irene reminds herself of Kardala. Remy is suddenly hungry for cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Implied eye mutilation and mentions of non-consensual drug use

Grace’s apprehension was clear in her body language as they stood outside the steel door, her shoulders taut, and her hands folded over one another in front of her.

“I’ll, let you go first.” She spoke, fishing a smooth, black key, made of what wasn’t plastic, but wasn’t metal either, from her pocket. She shoved it into the keyhole in the otherwise smooth door before her, twisting it in a whole circle, before wrestling it out.

* * *

 

Nadiya’s ears pricked at the noise of metal clinging.

Slowly, she placed her book on the bed beside her, moving to a more proper sitting position.

That was the door. It had to be.

For the first few days, well, maybe one or two weeks, that she had been stuck in here, the woman with the blonde braid would come through the door to bring her food. However, with Nadiya’s restlessness having hit its peak, she had attacked her, in a last resort attempt to just _escape_.

After that, they had just started feeding her through the door.

Was the woman with the braid back? Or, had someone just bumped into the door? No, no, the door was being unlocked!

Nadiya leaped to her feet, rushing over the door, preparing to attack once more, for the sake of _escape_.

* * *

 

Irene took a deep breath, placing her open palm on the door, and pushing her way into the room.

She didn’t have time to register her surroundings before her head was yanked in a painful manner, and she found herself nearly stumbling as she was forced into a headlock. The pain in her neck ignited and she was sure that the cuts had begun bleeding once again.

Oddly, though, she felt the grip loosen, and her vainful struggles turned useful, allowing herself to throw off the arm restraining her, and back up a few unsteady steps.

* * *

 

Nadiya’s eyes widened as they directed downwards at the hazel ones before her. She knew those eyes, wide, fearful, but kind, all at the same time.

They were Irene’s.

* * *

 

Irene’s hazel eyes looked up at the deep brown ones gazing down at her. They breathed in sync for a few moments, each trying to register the reality of the situation. Was it real? Was Irene just tossing and turning in her restless, injured sleep back at Martine’s base?

No, this was real. She needed it to be.

Irene was almost knocked off balance as two bony, yet strong arms wrapped around her.

Irene leaned into Nadiya’s embrace. Leaned into simplicity, a normal life, her life, the one she so desperately wanted back. The life of filing papers and dealing with squabbling R&U operatives that argued about every assignment they sent out. The life of, hell, even the fight at Halleluland was better than how she felt now, even if she had been coerced into kidnapping-

She leaned into who she had been before all that. Kind, quiet, small woman from HR. A friend to all. And in that moment, that was all she wanted to be.

Irene knew enough about Nadiya, _knew Nadiya_ , and she wasn’t one for physical contact, especially not in such a scenario. But, now, she was leaning into the embrace as much as Irene was.

“Irene?”

“Yeah, Nad?”

“I- I don’t know.”

The embrace lasted several minutes, and, oddly enough, Irene was the first to pull away.

* * *

Irene’s hazel eyes looked up at the deep brown ones gazing down at her. They breathed in sync for a few moments, each trying to register the reality of the situation. Was it real? Was Irene just tossing and turning in her restless, injured sleep back at Martine’s base?

No, this was real. She needed it to be.

Irene was almost knocked off balance as two bony, yet strong arms wrapped around her.

Irene leaned into Nadiya’s embrace. Leaned into simplicity, a normal life, her life, the one she so desperately wanted back. The life of filing papers and dealing with squabbling R&U operatives that argued about every assignment they sent out. The life of, hell, even the fight at Halleluland was better than how she felt now, even if she had been coerced into kidnapping-

She leaned into who she had been before all that. Kind, quiet, small woman from HR. A friend to all. And in that moment, that was all she wanted to be.

Irene knew enough about Nadiya, _knew Nadiya_ , and she wasn’t one for physical contact, especially not in such a scenario. But, now, she was leaning into the embrace as much as Irene was.

“Irene?”

“Yeah, Nad?”

“I- I don’t know.”

The embrace lasted several minutes, and, oddly enough, Irene was the first to pull away.

* * *

Needless to say, Nadiya was overwhelmed.   
She had been used to that, cell. She certainly hadn’t liked it, but she was used to it. She knew every slight ridge in the metal of the wall, every place where the carpet was just the slightest bit darker because she had spilled something on it, and, of course, the scrapes in the wall’s paint where her nails had dug.   
Now, she was in a conference room of some sort. Unfamiliar walls, floor, ceiling. The bookcase she had grown to know had been smooth, it’s wood slightly cold, in a way that she liked to run the fingers of one hand over when she read. The table she sat at now was smooth, but not the familiar cold she was used to.   
The whole room was like that. Unfamiliar. Warm. She hated it, hated how odd it felt on her skin, but it also took on almost an, objectified sense of relief. It was freedom, but at the same time, it wasn’t. She was free from that room that she had so desperately tried to escape. She had been there for, the voice had said three months, which Irene confirmed. Three months of scrabbling like a dog locked in its owners house during Hurricane Katrina, but now that she had freed herself from the claustrophobic walls, she was lost in the storm, and realized that those walls had been a shield, not a prison.   
“Nadiya.”  
She was torn from her trance-like state of staring at the bright light above by the utterance of her name in a rather, polite tone.   
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”  
Nadiya looked away from the lights, meeting the gaze of the woman across the table, diagonally, from her.   
She looked, ruffled, would be the best way to describe it. Her hair was ruffled, just slightly, a few strands sticking out here and there, the light glinting off her obviously dyed silver hair. The bandage veiling her empty eye socket seemed, haphazardly tied on, and about to fall off. Her lab coat was entirely unbuttoned, and one half of the collar was flipped up, while the other remained flat.   
“Grace, Wilder.” She spoke with a smile that seemed, well, admittedly half-assed, and less than half-hearted. “Or, well, the voice. Leader of the rebels. And, Jonesy.”  
She gestured to the black-haired woman sitting next to her.   
“Uh, Jonesy, er, Jonesy Lior. Head of External Affairs.”  
“Mhm. Thank you honey. And, Irene, I’m, going to explain everything, alright?”  
“Yes. You are.” Irene’s tone was aggressive, or, maybe more so defensive.   
“Here we go, then.”

* * *

 

 

“Probably millions! Screw you!”

A tremor rocked through Grace’s body, starting at her chest and tearing outwards through her limbs. The ground _shook_ beneath her, flinging her forwards as if she were standing in a bus that had just skidded to a stop at a red light.

She was thrown into the table ahead of her, sending her to her knees, her upper body propped up on the table’s surface.

The Berg shook again, and she was tossed to the floor like a rag doll, chest crashing to the concrete and extinguishing the air from her lungs.

Up till now, the day had been a nightmare. Learning that the organization she had devoted herself to for years was pretty much a cult, led by, the, king of america, practically being forced to clear someone as being in good health even though they were severely wounded and malnourished so their powers could be used for, god knows what, they wouldn’t tell her, and now, probably about to be killed by the building she had called home for so long.

Either this was one hell of a day, or it was the craziest nightmare she had ever had.

The feeling of dust landing on her body in heaps like shower water, was, odd, to say the least. She shook some from her hair as she looked upwards, investigating, calmly, the source of the sand-like material.

Oh.

A huge crack tore through the ceiling above her, sunlight shining down through it.

Grace snapped from her shock, scrambling to her feet and looking around the room.

Martine was standing protectively in front of Richard’s, body? No, no, he wasn’t dead, but he was damn well close. Sylvain stood between them, and, two operatives she didn’t recognize and, Irene.

Every instinct within her told her to help. Every medical instinct that had been drilled into her through years of university, every compassionate instinct she had inadvertently learned from reassuring terrified patients that they would awake once again after being put under, and every other instinct that she couldn’t trace back to a source, but were still clearly there, screamed at her to fend off Sylvain, or, or try to calm down, what was her name, Mary?

“Grace!”

Her wife’s voice rung out, and she turned on a dime, seeing, at the end of a hall that had been opened due to a chunk of the wall practically disintegrating, Jonesy.

Grace was nearly knocked off her feet as the Berg shook again, and a skimmer came crashing through the wall.

They would live.

Now she just had to make sure she and her wife did the same.

“Grace! Come on!”

She took one look back at Irene, and ran through the gap in the wall.

As soon as she was a few strides behind her, Jonesy turned as well, and the two tore down the hall, concrete chunks and dust falling to the ground on either side of them.

The hall ahead was clear, a straight shot to, wherever Jonesy was leading her.

No. No no no no no no no no.

A pile of rubble had collected, forming a barricade of jagged concrete that she shaking with every slight move of the Berg.

Jonesy didn’t so much as hesitate. She leaped onto the first block, climbing up and up and up till she reached the summit, maybe ten feet off the ground.

“Come on! You can do it!” Came her reassuring voice, and Grace nodded, tearing forwards and leaping onto the first block, retracing her wife’s footsteps.

Scrabbling like a cat trying to save a failed jump all the way, she found herself at the summit, looking down a steep, yet smooth hill. Jonesy nodded stiffly before leaping five feet down the hill in one jump.

The Berg shook, more violently than it had before, and the solid foundation beneath it seemed to disappear, replaced by, water.

The hill shook, and Grace found herself faced with two options, and a split second to decide between them.

Either be buried in a pile of concrete or leap ten feet to what very well could be a broken leg, or worse.

Grace jumped.

The ground slammed into her, the sheer force of the crash sending ripples of pain through her body, as if she had picked up live wires with no insulation.

Adrenaline fighting for dominance with pain, she rolled from her stomach to her back, preparing to scramble to her feet.

Grace pried her eyes open, only to be met with a chunk of concrete, shaped sharp like a stalactite, inches from her left eye.

* * *

 

“You, didn’t know about Richard?” Remy questioned from beside Irene. He looked markedly, cleaner, than Nadiya remembered. His hair was free of dust and grime, though there were obvious places where his flesh was lighter, showing the obvious signs of a freshly healed wound that was more scar tissue than skin.

“No. Jonesy didn’t either.” Grace answered with a calm, polite nod.

Nadiya found that, hard to believe. After all the lies she had been told, or, well, not lies. Half truths. Sometimes less than that.

“What about Joe?” She asked, expression hardening from its formerly awed state.

“Joe,” Grace was hesitating to answer, and Nadiya found herself already doubting the answer before it even came out of her mouth, “Was aware. He, as head of research and development, headed, the Sage experiments. Alongside his team.”

“The, what?” Remy piped up.

Jonesy looked up at Grace, “Well, we said we would tell them everything.”

“Yeah,” Nadiya noticed that she drew out the ‘y’ to a sort of trill, “Alright.”

* * *

 

“You, want me to approve this?” Grace questioned, looking over the clipboard Joe had handed her.

Joe made an ‘ehhh’ gesture with his hand, “I need to know it won’t kill the subj-er, patient.”

“Joe, this is insanity. It’s, not going to kill, but, why? What are you doing? Is, someone hurt? This is, like, intense surgical sedation stuff.”

“Yeah, let’s, someone’s hurt, let’s go with that.”

“Then I should be the one taking care of them.”

“I, really can’t tell ya’, Grace.”

“Well, it won’t kill. But you need to be careful. This, you’re not trying to remove stimplants, are you? You know that’s impossible.”

Joe sighed, turning to leave her office. As he stood in the doorway, he spoke, quietly, “We’re doing the exact opposite.”

Grace looked down at the paper again.

‘████ ████████████ ████, former ████████ ██████.

Gender: Female

Age: 22 years, 4 months

Height: 160 cm (5 foot 3 inches)

Weight: 46 kilograms

She sighed, placing the paper down on her desk and scrawling out Valium under the, quite extensive, list of drugs this, so called patient was already under.

Joe was probably the worst liar in the whole fellowship. She may have been powerless to stop whatever he was doing, but the least she could do was make sure the subject didn’t have to be sober for it.

* * *

 

“The idea of the broadcast spawned as soon as Potts put Sage into the database as a technokenitic. And, there were, other intricacies about the, stimplant process that, peaked Joe’s scientific interest. Namely, well, they didn’t think Addison and Flanagan got powers. They didn’t realize they did until, weeks later. But the idea of the broadcast had spawned long before then.

Martine gave Joe the assignment to, find a way to, er, enhance Sage’s powers. And, let’s just say that Mary went through a lot of shit.” Grace explained, eyes turned to the table now, avoiding the gazes of those she spoke to.

Her voice was, hushed, now. Not in the way that she didn’t want others to hear, but in the way that she herself didn’t want to hear the words she spoke.

“We believe they’re going to, try again. A second broadcast.”

“Mary isn’t here?” Remy questioned.

“Hun, you’re further from Sage then you have been in three months.”

* * *

 

“Axil! Rin! Break!” Litti commanded, yelling above the shouts of the battle beside him.

Jonesy watched as Axil and Rin, who flanked Litti, nodded stiffly, turning and holstering their pistols, tearing through the grass towards Sage.

This mission had been dangerous when they took it. She had been trying to track Jones and her group, and had achieved some manner of success, but Martine had clearly obtained a greater understanding of their location, and a more updated one.

It was only by a margin of minutes had Jonesy been able to gather a formidable force to fight back against what she knew would be as many fighters as Martine could get together. Sure, the rebels may have had fewer fighters, but they served a threat. It was only her hope that they would be able to cause enough of a distraction to capture Jone’s group before Martine could.

That, didn’t seem to be exactly going to plan, however. Litti’s fighters, and the reserve fighters from the external affairs department, who took the role of risk and Understanding operatives, but were still able to hold their own in hand-to-hand, were providing formidable opposition, but were still being pushed back.

She could tell Litti’s strategy. He knew she was going to lose, but was hellbent on at least capturing Sage.

Rin and Axil’s eyes were hardened with determination as they grabbed Sage by either arm, clearly attempting to yank her backwards. Rin and Axil were some of Litti’s best soldiers, but, through some combination of frenzied panic and animal instinct, Sage struggled from their grip, eyes wide in panic yet flaring with bellicosity.

A group of Martine’s fighters broke off from the larger mass, tearing towards Rin and Axil. They had time to get away, but with Sage panicking like a cat in a lake, it would be impossible.

Jonesy made a split second decision, static spinning around her fingers and springing from their tips.

She watched as Mary Sage fell into a nightmare.

* * *

 

“Sage was captured alongside Chris and Irene.” Jonesy stated. There was a hint of, guilt, in her tone, and it shone through even more in her body language. Hands fidgeting, gaze avoidant.

“Mhm. We were outnumbered in that one.” Grace spoke, looking at her wife in an almost, reassuring way.

“Parson’s too damn good at tracking.” Jonesy shook her head.

“Yeah. Beats me how he did it. But, that’s not important. What matters is that you’re here now.”

“Where is, _here_ , exactly?” Irene asked.

“Oh! Of course. This, is the Cake.”

“ _Grace no_.”

Grace chuckled, “Alright, alright, it’s not called the Cake. We call it that, cause it looks like a Cake, _Jonesy_. We’re in the Research Laboratory for the Advancement of Artificial Anthrobiology, which used to be the main offsite research base for the research and development department. But it looks like a cake so we call it the Cake.”

“Sorry, uh, IT here, _where are we_.”

“Western Kansas, near interstate 160.” Nadiya muttered.

“Exactly. And Martine’s base was in Tennessee. We’re, pretty far away from there. Or close? Depending on how you look at it.”

Jonesy chuckled. “And she has no idea.”

* * *

 

“Is that everything, then? Or just more bullshit?” Irene practically growled as she stood up, leaning forward with her hands braced against the table.

Irene couldn’t tell what had come over her. Anger at these assholes for keeping Nadiya prisoner, that they had known where they were and didn’t try to help, fear of unfamiliar territory and being outnumbered, paranoia, it all exploded out of her, all at once.

It reminded her of Kardala.

“Irene.” Irene watched Grace’s expression go from light-hearted and just a bit frazzled to the serious tone she had only seen her use when arguing with a particularly problematic member of Risk and Understanding. “I think we’ve both already been lied to enough. I promise you. I’m not telling you anything but the truth.”

“What the hell are you talking about.”

“Do you think you were the only ones that didn’t know? I thought the fellowship was really doing good. That the fellowship was helping people.” Grace shook her head. “They’ve caused more harm than they ever alleviated. I learned about the truth only six weeks before you did. Big _fucking_ mistake.

I thought I had stopped their plan. I made sure the security operatives were oh so coincidentally were distracted during Joe’s experiment. Sage escaped. I thought that would stop them. That Martine would grumble, kick a rock, and move on.

But goddamn if they weren’t determined. They convinced you three to bring their computer back, and, don’t take that as me blaming you. Cause I’m not.

I saw the shit they do. And a lot of others did too. That’s why they’re calling us the rebels.”

She looked up, face back to its light hearted half-smile, and cocked her head slightly.

“Does that answer your question?”

Irene grumbled and sat back down.

* * *

 

“Then you’re, asking us to join you?” Remy questioned, wincing as Irene’s shaking of the table shifted his bad leg slightly.

“If you want? I, would like to have you stay here until we can fix up your leg, and you guy’s ears. I don’t think you can really go to a normal hospital. I certainly won’t stop you if you want to leave, though.”

“There’s no way I could fight Addison.” Irene commented, looking up at Remy.

“You, wouldn’t necessarily have to join External Affairs. You may be at least somewhat back on your feet now, health-wise, but you’re a long way off from joining Litti. I’m sure Ora, Norell, and Kenny could use the help, though.” Grace interjected.

“Heads of Humanities, Research and Development, and Information Tech respectively.” Jonesy stated.

“Can, we have time to, confer?”

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy notices a small, odd detail. Irene dosent know what to think. Nadiya has a social interaction she wasn't forced into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll stop writing these shorter Act-2-to-Act-3 transition chapters soon. This should be the last one.

The familiar scents of rubber and dust permeated the room as he leaned against the wall, his mind half asleep but his body still fully awake.

He longed to feel tired but, god, it was hard when he was just stuck in this damn cell all day.

At least, he mused, Martine was leaving him alone today. Being cooped up in here was a million times better than dealing with her.

He glanced over at the tray of food near the door, where it had been left. He was hungry, sure, he always was, but the idea of moving across the cell to eat sickened him.

The man sighed.

The feeling of bile in his throat was expected as he tucked his legs to his chest and hauled himself to his feet. He was, shaky, having to use the wall for support, though it's sleek, rubbery surface didn't provide much for handholds.

He sat down next to the tray of food, which seemed, old. Maybe a day or two.

He took a solid, grain-colored block from the tray, biting into it and wrestling off a piece. It tasted abhorrent, but he didn't have the energy to stop it from sliding down his throat.

What month was it now?

* * *

“Alexa?” Remy spoke, pricking his ears for the floaty ping of the AI.

Nothing.

“Alright.”

“Is this not, familiar, to anybody?” Irene asked, hands clasped together before her.

“I would like to know if you guys are with me, or against me.” Remy mocked, voice higher than normal in an imitation of Richard.

“God, yeah, yeah.” Nadiya pinched the bridge of her nose. “What is there, to do, though?”

“Go home.” Remy responded quickly.

“You know we can't.” Irene stated with just as much speed.

“We can try.”

“ You said the same thing, with the, earrings, and you nearly bled out!”

“The earrings?” Nadiya questioned.

“I can explain later.” Remy answered. “I, know. I know that was stupid but it got us out. I, god, Irene, I just wanna go home.”

“I do too. But, I think there's still a long way to go. You need to think logically here. If we go home, if we go back to our families, Martine will follow. And we’ll be stuck back in that hellhole, or worse. They could hurt our _families_ , Remy.”

“You're saying we stay here? With some people Parsons called insane?”

“He called everyone that. Space cadet, Terra, Scorpio-”

“He was, I get where you're going with this, but he was right about Scorpio.”

“Yeah, I know, just- Look. I don't trust Grace. Not now. But I sure as hell trust her more than Martine. I say, we stay here, and when this whole thing blows over, we go back to our normal lives. Forget this ever happened. Forget I have a, frickin, goddess, in my head. Forget about the fellowship and just go home.”

“I can't go back to just, fighting, every day!”

“We won't.”

“We can't not fight.” Nadiya piped up. “What can I do from, Joe’s lab? If we're on the outside looking in, what can we do? Program computers and, whatever it was Irene does?”

“Nadiya. I've been fighting nonstop for the last two fucking months.”

“Besides, Grace said we couldn't do that, at least for a while.”

“I'm kinda having trouble standing, so.”

“Then, what? We play along until they let us fight?”

“Yeah.” Irene and Remy spoke in what could be described as unison.

“After all, wars have to end sometime.”

Remy hummed in agreement, eyes drifting to a feather under the table.

The feather showed cream, encroaching on white bristles grayed by the tables shadow.

* * *

The first thing she noticed upon waking was the throbbing pain in her head.

It thumped like a heartbeat, flaring up till it was nigh acute as a pinprick, then settling to a dull ache that was no more than pressure.

She pried open one eye, but closed it just as quickly.

Light crashed down on her, thick and painful as concrete, yet expanding, moving, like a gas that flowed through her lungs and warmed her brain to the point of nausea. The air around her was warm, yet whatever she was laying on was, cold, soft. Chills needled their way up her arm like twisting vines, dulling at her hand, where most sensation had been muffled.

Her brow furrowed as she felt phlegm bubbling in her throat and, on instinct, she was sitting bolt upright a moment later, dry coughing over the edge of the bed she was seated on.

Bleary eyed and senses muted, she raised her wrist near her eyes, hoping to view some message printed in thin cyan. It took a moment for her vision to solidify, but when it did, the blue of her watch was, absent, replaced by a thick, grey cast wrapping from halfway down her forearm to her hand, looping around the thumb.

Parsons was not gonna like this.

* * *

“What happened to your ears, then?” Nadiya asked from where she perched atop the upper part of a bunk bed.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” Irene muttered in response. Nadiya could see the exhaustion wearing on her form. Before, adrenaline had fueled perked ears and eyes, tense shoulders and twitching eyes. Now, she looked like a heap.

Her eyelids drooped, shoulders slumped, hair limp and messy. She reminded Nadiya of a silent cat in the wind, ears and fur blown by the gentle, yet whipping zephyr. Calm, yet watchful.

Irene leaned against the wall next to the door, on the opposite side as the hinges. The muddy, blood-stained, torn clothes she had bore earlier were she’d now, replaced with the same cream-colored, thin shirt that Nadiya wore.

After a rather short exchange, Grace insisted they get some rest, and had had Litti show them to a room on the second floor.

The room was, quite similar to the cell she had formerly been cooped up in. The walls were cream-colored, with a bunk bed shoved in a corner, and two doors on opposite walls. It was small, but cozy, with a soft warm hue to the air.

“Yeah, I, I get that.” A beat. “Grace was your boss, right?”

“ _Was_.”

“Yeah. I know. We’re in some secret rebel base, I don’t think that really counts as employment.”

“Mhm.”

“God, this is a stupid fucking question, but, do you think we can trust her?”

Irene chuckled.

“Gods, I wish I knew.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy hears an odd noise. Nadiya misses something. Irene finally gets some rest.

Despite Nadiya spending most of the day awake and restless, Irene slept like a rock. Or, more accurately, like someone who had turned back from a goddess, had her worldview completely changed, found out that her former boss was leader of a fucking  _ rebellion _ , and nearly passed out from blood loss, all over the course of, maybe six hours. 

In the end, Irene ended up sleeping for fifteen hours. 

Nadiya spent the day in the room, not daring to venture out alone. It was, nice, though it was familiar. Well, familiar in location, but not in emotion. 

She was no social scientist, of course. Human emotions, feelings in general, were beyond her scientific expertise, and, admittedly, understanding. Even so, she noticed that she was far less tense, moving about in a freer sense. The weight of mystery settled squarely on her lungs when she tried to sleep had, for the most part, vanished. This wasn’t home, sure, and she didn’t know everything, sure, but she was with someone else, someone she would consider a friend. That didn’t mean the weight was entirely gone, with stone claws still firm on her diaphragm, forcing the apprehension of entering an unknown, hidden place to course its way through her chest and leave a cold feeling in her fingers. 

Something was missing. Something or  _ someone _ . 

No. Not someone. Something. It had to be. Nadiya Jones was a  _ scientist _ . She didn’t miss people. This was just her subconscious telling her that some piece of the puzzle was missing. 

She mused as she paced back and forth, the dew of a recent shower dripping from her hair to the back of her shirt. The thin carpet beneath her feet muffled her footsteps, as did whatever was under it. She was quite sure it was linoleum. 

Nadiya pricked her ear to the sound of breathing outside her door, shoulders growing just slightly taut as a light knock echoed. 

She looked at the blue digital clock in the wall. 

11:10

Why the hell would anyone be bothering them this late? No one had done so during the day. 

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door, subconsciously sharpening her nails, just slightly. She undid the lock, opening the door a crack and peering out in the dark of the hallway. 

“Nad.” 

The voice was familiar at once. She quickly opened the door the rest of the way, allowing Remy into the dorm before closing the door behind him. 

“I thought you were supposed to be off your feet.”

Remy looked slightly disheveled, his hair ragged and messy, eyes somehow drooping and wild at the same time. One of his pant legs was cut off just above the knee, the cut edge just covering the top of a bandage wrapping of his lower leg. Around said leg was wrapped an, odd sort of cast. 

A circular plate was placed over his knee cap, over it a thick ring wrapping around the back of the knee. A second, flatter ring was wrapped around his leg, just above the ankle. Connecting the two were several spiraling tubes that seemed to bend slightly with his movement, similar to a shock absorber. 

Remy shrugged, “Don’t know. Snuck out of the hospital room as soon as mostly everyone left.”

Nadiya’s eye twitched. “Isn’t that a bad idea?”

Remy made an ‘eh’ gesture with one hand, “I dunno. Dosen’t staying the night in some creepy hospital wing sound like a bad idea, though?”

“Guess you’re righ-“

“Hey, Remy.” Irene piped up. Nadiya turned her gaze to see the stout woman emerge from beneath the covers. Her hair was still quite bedraggled, eyes less bleary and missing their twitchiness. 

“Irene!”

“How’s your leg?”

“Better. Not bleeding.”

“What are you doing here?” Nadiya interjected. 

Remy seemed taken aback by the question. “I mean, we’ve gotta explore this place, right? You were, we were all thinking that, right?”

“No. Maybe we shouldn’t piss off the people we’re in the base of? Just a thought.”

“They don’t have to know. Come on, everyone’s asleep.”

“Come on, Nadiya. We should get a layout of the place anyways, ‘case things go bad.”

“Fine. But it was Remy’s idea.”

* * *

Despite Nadiya’s numerous, and audible, doubts, Remy was actually decent at the leading the way. 

“I think there’s only three levels.” Remy spoke as he began the ascent up the, quite steep, set of stairs. Unlike on previous levels, these stairs were made of linoleum, and smelled of bleach, in a way that made Nadiya cover her nose with her hand. 

His cast squealed slightly as he moved, compressing, then extending, acting as a nigh-perfect replacement of the normal limb. 

This stairway was longer than the others had been, with steeper steps and a solidity to them absent from hardwood. 

Remy was quick, excited, but still cautious, one hand splayed out on the wall as he crept up the stairs. Nadiya was just behind him, keeping pace, ears pricked. Irene took up the rear, walking a bit slower, with as much caution as the other two, but a hint of confidence in the way she held herself. Nadiya suspected it had something to do with her confrontation of a Grace the day prior. 

His speed quickened as he reached the top of the staircase, which emerged into a flat platform, its floor just as smooth and sterile. 

The platform seemed to be held in a central room of some sort. Every wall held a door, which opened into white, clean halls. 

The group shared a glance before Remy began to take a step forwards. 

His cast squealed, but instead of him releasing the pressure, he kept the leg shoved to the ground, spine stiff, eyes swiveling like the ears of a wolf on high alert. 

Nadiya and Irene shared a look of confusion, before Nadiya pricked her ears. 

Voices. Muffled, sure, but voices nonetheless. Voices and, some odd buzzing. 

Slow as a creeping cat now, Remy crept forwards, stopping every few steps. 

“This way.” He hissed, walking on the balls of his feet down a long, narrow hallway. The smell of chemicals, bleach, and blood were all-encompassing, making Nadiya wrinkle her nose instinctively. 

He stopped about halfway down the hallway, glancing behind him, then at the wall.

“Coming from in there.” He whispered, the others stopping stone-still behind him.

Nadiya’s ears quickly confirmed this. The wall served as a thin barrier between them and, whatever was making that noise.

Instantly, her body locked up. Knees stiff, shoulders taut, eyes like those of a hound in headlights.

The breath was knocked from her chest as the crackling of an animate tesla-coil split the air like a snap of lightning. She watched Remy physically jump, having to regain his balance.

Closer to the source of the noise, now, Nadiya could make out what the voices spoke.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.”

“I’m fine. We can try again.”

“No, I don’t care if you’re fine, we’re stopping, and you’re getting some goddamn rest.”

“Did it go through?”

“Ask Joe.”

“Ye, yes. It went through.”

“Fine, then. I’ll rest.”

“Good. Let’s get back to our room.”

The noise of a door creaking open sounded like a gong in the silence of the hall, and she instinctively flattened herself against the wall. 

Footsteps walked away, and she heard as an elevator opened, then closed, descending to the floor below.

Nadiya, Remy, and Irene shared a look of perplexment and fear, listening with bated breath as the floor descended into quiescence once more.

* * *

 

Mary leaned the side of her face into her hand, the other splayed across the book in her lap, fingers moving as to not cover the words she was reading. The earbuds in her ears quietly hummed music far from her playlist, but she was too absorbed in her book to bother changing it.

“This, okay, we’re trying something new. We’re hoping this will let us communicate at a greater distance than Jonesy’s powers naturally allow.” Mary shook her head, torn from the book she read by an odd, feminine voice speaking in her earbuds. It was, familiar, like a personified sense of deja vu.

She closed the book, using one hand as a bookmark, while the other operated the computer mouse. She searched for what tab was playing the voice. Had some virus tab reared its ugly head? Had her music player somehow wandered into an ARG? The second option seemed more likely, but it wasn’t the case. Her music was still playing, as a faint undertone to the woman’s continued speech.

“Mary Elizabeth-Salome Sage, you are in the custody of Martine Kurtz. You are twenty two years of age, and have powers known as technokinesis. Your, friends, Nadiya Jones, Chris Rembrandt, and Irene Baker have found their way to a safehouse. Rescue efforts for you, as well as your former teammates Addison Solie and Flanagan Mayers, will be underway once we made headway in this war. We hope this message reaches you…….tu….re….” 

The voice began to glitch like a badly connected skype call, clipping in such a way that she could only make out every few syllables. 

It crackled like an animate tesla-coil, and with that, Mary Sage awoke.

* * *

 

The sickening warmth of the fluorescent lights burned her eyes, even when she closed them. A lightswitch was situated next to the door, but, no, the very thought of getting out of bed was even more sickening.

There was a certain, stuffiness, to the hospital room. The air wasn’t stale, but it was odd. The salinity and smell of alcohol she was used to was absent.

She rolled onto her side in an attempt to move away from the light burning her eyelids, taking the pillow she rested on and putting it over her head. As she did, she grit her teeth against the grinding pains in her wrist and chest. The IV in her hand tugged slightly against her skin, sending a wave of nausea through her stomach.

She pressed the pillow against her ear in an attempt to block out the beeping of the heart monitor that ignited the ache behind her eyes.

The monotonous beeping was interrupted by the squeal of hinges. She sighed before rolling onto her back, putting the pillow on her chest.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya looks for Joe. Irene goes outside. ████ meets a mysterious stranger.
> 
> tw: minor character suicide mention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhh  
> who needs action scenes when you can have random npcs interacting with eachother: the act  
> note that text conversations may have grammar/spelling mistakes. this is intentional

The room breathed with a steady rhythm as Irene sat leaning against the wall, pain from the slice on her ribs whispering for the first time in weeks. She pricked her ears to the sound of Nadiya and Remy inhaling and exhaling in nigh-synchronization, the only difference being the slight whistle Nadiya made when she breathed out.

The night prior, the three had quietly made their way back to the dorm after making absolutely sure the coast was clear, Remy and Nadiya promptly retiring on the bunk bed, though Remy had insisted on making Irene a bed out of blankets on the floor after she had insisted he take the bunk.

Irene sat next to the makeshift bed now, back against the wall, hyperaware of the noise outside.

There were no windows in the dorm, but the clock embedded in the wall told her that it was eight in the morning now, and people were starting to get up.

After glancing at the door and the bunks to reassure herself of the safety of the room, Irene allowed herself to slip back into a half-sleep of sorts. Her eyelids gently drooped, and she leaned against the wall, one hand resting on the makeshift bed next to her.

Despite her relaxed state, she had her ears pricked, and heard clearly as two solid, resounding knocks echoed through the room.

Instantly, like a cat running from lightning, she scrambled to her feet, any remnants of half-sleep banished. She waited a few tense seconds, and, seeing that whoever was out there hadn’t attempted to force their way in, she quietly made her way to the bunk bed.

She intended to shake them awake, but found it unnecessary, as they had both already scrambled awake.

Irene quickly made a ‘stand back, I’ll handle this’ gesture before making her way over to the door, steeling herself. She could feel Remy and Nadiya’s presence close behind, both tense and ready to fight if the need arose.

She undid the deadbolt on the door, and, instantly, the tension in her shoulders dissipated.

* * *

 

 

FM: shouldn’t Dagney be here by now

AS: Busy.

AS: Dagney’s busy.

FM: as always

AS: She’s going to be busy a lot more 

AS: Often

AS:  With the progress Nyota is making

FM: ugh

FM: why can’t they just have Sylvain do it

FM: so I don’t have to deal with him anymore

AS: Onyx, I’m at least eighty percent sure they need Sage /alive/

* * *

 

“ _ I hate you. You are the absolute worst _ .” A lithe latina woman with a sandy brown undercut shouted down the hall after another woman.

“I’m not the one who called Tim Allen hot!” The woman responded as she ran down the hall, voice slowly fading away.

“I’m right and you know it, Elizabeth!”

The woman before them shook out her hair, brushing a strand behind her ear. 

“Took ya’ long enough,” She spoke in a playful manner. “Come on, Tavi came down with something, so I’ll be showing you around or, whatever. I don’t know. This isn’t my job. Whatever, come on.”

Irene was about to say something, but Remy beat her to it.

“Terra?” 

The woman’s cheerful smile faltered. “Don’t, call me that.” She spoke in a far more serious tone. “I’m Cecil. Follow me.”

Irene looked back at her teammates, sharing a glance, before turning back around and leading the way into the hall. 

The hallway was beige in color, sans a few places where paint had been scraped away, revealing the white metal underneath, and lined with identical doors. Seven or so people leaned against the walls, chatting with each other or looking at something on their watches. 

Irene narrowed her eyes at the strangers, but Cecil seemed unbothered. Bored, if anything. 

She led them to the end of the hall, through a set of automatic double doors, and to the entrance of an elevator. 

Cecil waited for a few moments before the elevator beeped and the doors rumbled open.

“All aboard the hellevator.” She chuckled as they walked in, and she punched in one of the buttons next to the door. “It, it stopped one time. It’s Kenny’s joke.”

“You’re the first complete trio here, y’know that?” Cecil spoke musedly. “Tavi was in my group, but, well, Simon’s dead. ‘Guy freaked out, say he jumped off a cliff somewhere in Colorado.”

“Lid and Sylvain got into a fight. Failed that mission.” Remy muttered. 

“Oh. You’re-“

“Was.”

“Was, yeah.”

The elevator ground to a stop, and opened into what Irene recognized as the garage. 

A gust of cold air of cold air hit her as the doors grumbled open, and Cecil led them into the garage. 

She seemed to be leading them towards the wall, but, as soon as she was about to run into it, she placed her hand on a crack in the concrete. Said crack glowed green for a moment, before a mechanical humming was heard, and a section of the wall slid away, revealing a dark hallway that had a stairway halfway down it. 

As Cecil entered the hall, the lights above clicked on, illuminating a door at the end of it. 

“Besides the garage doors, this is the only way in or out.” She explained, making her way down the hall and up the stairs. She pressed the face of her watch against a small metal plate above the handle, and, after another stent of humming, it clicked. 

Effortlessly and nonchalantly, she pushed down on the handle, and opened the door.

* * *

 

The stranger in the doorway didn’t respond, nor seem to notice her question. 

They closed the door behind them as they entered, holding a thin, rectangular object, though she couldn’t tell if it was a clipboard or a tablet. 

She pushed herself to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in her ribs as she did so. 

Instinctively, her powers pulsed, but the stranger showed no reaction. She tried again. Nothing. 

Something was wrong. 

She couldn’t feel this person's emotions. 

“Who are you?” She growled, raising her lip in an aggressive gesture. 

“Kaiden.” They responded, picking up her arm calmly, seemingly not bothered by her show of hostility. “Do you know who you are?” Kaiden asked casually as they undid the buckles holding the brace on her wrist. 

“Duh.”

“Good. Fawn suspected you might be concussed. Guess not.”

Kaiden took the brace from her arm, placing it on the bed, still holding the wrist firmly with one hand. She inspected the wrapping on it, which was stained with crimson, for a few critical moments, before taking a small knife that resembled a letter opener from her pocket. The blade couldn’t have been more than two inches, but it was sharp, it’s silver glinting. 

She tried to yank her arm away, but Kaiden firmly held it in place as she used the knife to slice off the bandage wrapping. 

“Wounds’ infected.” She muttered, though she couldn’t tell if it was to her or to herself. She looked at her wrist, seeing the dull, scabbed cut that was the sick yellow of mucus.

She gritted her teeth against the stinging pain as Kaiden cleaned the wound with an antiseptic cloth that resembled more of a glass cleaner, before rewrapping her wrist with a fresh bandage. As soon as they were satisfied, they buckled the brace back on her wrist. 

“You’ve got some broken ribs too, but all we can do for those is give it time. You’re lucky Rin was feeling merciful, else your throat’d be sliced.”

“Rin isn’t on the civilian database.”

“And were not civilians.”

“Then who are you?”

“I’ll answer that when I have orders to. For now,” Kaiden turned around, beginning to head out of the room, “Don’t try to use your powers. It won’t work.”

* * *

 

The grass sunk slightly beneath Irene’s feet, mud squelching at the shoes she had forgot she was wearing. Fresh air buffeted her face as she looked out upon the expanse of meadow. 

She was outside. 

She was free. 

Cecil led them a dozen or so meters forward, onto a ring of road surrounding the structure, one that appeared to be made of a mix of gravel and concrete. 

“Addy, er, no, you’re-“

“Nadiya.”

“Yeah, Nadiya. I trust you’re familiar with this place?”

“No.” Nadiya stepped up so she was beside Irene instead of flanking her. “I was at the Berg. Dealt more with the polymer itself than anything else.” Irene could easily hear the hostility in her voice, though, oddly enough, it was accompanied with a hint of attempted respect. 

“Oh. Alright. Guess I’m used to R-N-D people knowin’ about it. Well, this is the Research Laboratory for the Advancement of Artificial Anthrobiology, but we call it the Cake. Well, Grace does. Actually, everyone but Jonesy does. Cause the real name is long as fuck.”

Cecil turned around, gesturing to the building behind her. 

Forty feet tall and at least thirty wide stood a great building, circular and white. Three floors were stacked atop each other, each one smaller than the last, like a solid, metal wedding cake. 

Irene felt herself almost thrown to the grass as the ground shook beneath her. She moved one foot behind the other in an attempt to stay on balance. Her stomach seized, and she was sure she was about to throw up. 

And then it was over. 

A black, smooth skimmer vertically shot out of a hole in the ground like a space shuttle, righted itself to a horizontal position, and disappeared. 

“You can always tell when a skimmer leaves.” Cecil spoke as she pivoted around and began to walk back to the door. “Loud as all hell.” 

* * *

 

“Research and development is a pretty far stretch from IT, huh, Abbey?” Nadiya mused, voice a mix of causality and warning.  

“Not in R-N-D. Just doing what Kenny told me to do.” Abbey responded. Her short red hair was shaped in a pixie cut, though Nadiya was sure it was dyed. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. The hair color just looked, unnatural. 

“Mhm.”

The red-haired woman led her down the narrow hallway on the third floor, looking disgruntled and distracted. 

“You’re supposed to talk to Joe, I guess. The douche.”

She waved her hand at the double doors embedded into the white metal wall, watching as they slid open. 

The lab, which she had been informed was one of eight, reeked of chemicals and bleach, as well as a metallic tang she hoped to god wasn’t blood. 

“You’ll find him. Just look for the jackass with a bird’s nest on his head.”

* * *

DR: 3

FM: on it

AS: On it.

FM: fuck off, conduit

DC: not the time. 

AS: Sorry

FM: sorry

* * *

 

It was the frantic beeping of the heart monitor that shook her awake. She shot up in bed, grasping at her hair with one hand. Her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat, and, despite the sickly warmth of the room, her teeth chattered out of her control. 

She forced herself to breath. In, and out. In, and out. 

You’re alright, Jamie. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy reminisces. Jamie misses Parsons. Nadiya reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the chapter you can tell this was written by a thirteen year old!
> 
> MAJOR TWs: Alcoholism in general, alcoholic withdrawl  
> Minor TWs: Animal injury, dogs hunting other animals, blood, animal blood, prosthetic limbs, mentions of terrorism

Abbey hadn’t been kidding.

Joe’s black hair resembled shag carpeting, springing from his scalp, then resting like the leaves of a willow tree in a hood around his head. His skin was ashy and dry, and his eyes were sunken, lined with dark eyebrows and bags. Relative to Nadiya, he was somewhat short, with his lab coat hanging down to his knees, though this appeared to be intentional. 

When she approached him, after a distracted lab-coat wearing man pointed her towards his office, goggles covered his eyes, obscuring his face as he looked at something on a laptop. His mechanical arm, a purposeful thing, with the metal tube bridging the wrist motor to the elbow wrapped in a tight, binding braid of cable, squealed as he adjusted its position. 

“Hey, Nadiya.” He spoke absentmindedly, flicking his fingers on the touchpad. “Ora didn’t scare you off?”

“Never talked to any Ora.” She responded.

“Co-leader of the department. Ora Litvak.”

“They let you co-head a department?”

“Mhm. Go talk to Kaiden. Long brown hair, humanities, just, ask Fawn. Says she needs help with, some, stimplant person, I don’t know.”

“Polymer stuff?”

Joe made an ‘eh’ gesture with his mechanical hand. 

* * *

“Here.” Kaiden spoke, holding out a few stapled papers to Nadiya, one hand still tapping away at her keyboard. “She’s kinda’ an ass, but, eh, not as bad as the other one.”

“Who?”

“Did Joe not, tell you?”

“Joe basically just told me to f’ off.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds like him. Jerk. Well, in short, humanities, r-and-d, and engineering all carry out aspects of the same job. Eh, well, kind of. Humanities does medical stuff, mostly. For our own people, mainly Litti, I don’t know what bone in her body she hasn’t broken at this point, and for, well, enhanced people that get brought in. R-and-d, nerd division, as Kenny calls ‘em, has taken on the role of understanding how powers work, and working with engineering to suppress them. Well, suppress the more dangerous ones. We did that before too, Jonesy actually found out a way to suppress space cadet’s powers, huh, but that went out the window. Anyway, Pathos is, like, one of the most dangerous, now that Scorpio is out of the picture. You’re one of the only researchers we have with experience in the stimplant program, so, they’re giving this one to you. Good luck. Now, I need to get back to work.”

Nadiya looked at the paper in her hands, noting its weariness, bearing creases of the many times it had been folded before. The edges were torn and dog-eared, and some of the ink had dried or smeared. 

‘Jamie Youngs’

The name was familiar. She had seen it before, on a clean, bright website. 

Jamie Youngs. Risk and Understanding. 

_ Why in the world would we want to help you beat us, fucker. _

Jamie Youngs. Risk and Understanding. 

_ Jamie and I suspect that Space Cadet has taken refuge in an abandoned theme park on the gulf of Louisiana, on the gulf coast of Louisiana. _

Jamie Youngs. Risk and Understanding. 

A foe from a time long forgotten. When her biggest worry was that she had to go to some dumbass mixer. 

Before Martine. 

Before Grace. 

Before Mary and Terra and Scorpio and Joe and-

Before  _ this _ . 

Jamie Youngs. Risk and Understanding.

Nadiya realized that her hands were trembling, crumpling the paper around the edges. 

She stopped the breath from catching in her throat as she turned and left Kaiden’s office.

* * *

Jamie Youngs, Risk and Understanding, felt like shit. 

Her head spun, and her chest felt to be pressed down on by some invisible force, not to mention that she may or may not have been about to pass out. 

Risk and Understanding had always been stressful, especially being one of the few who knew about the fellowships true intentions. She couldn’t remember ever sleeping during those six weeks Space Cadet was missing, except for when she passed out at her computer.

Alcohol had helped. It really did. It dulled her exhaustion. It helped with the stress.

She didn’t know how long she’d been here. There was a clock, but she was asleep too often to keep track of it. 

Jamie had never thought she had a problem. She was of age, she was 27 for god's sakes, she was legal. 

She hated being this aware. 

She laid on her back now, staring at the fluorescent lights above.

She missed Parsons. They weren’t friends, so to speak, they had a very, professional relationship. But it was human nature to make friends in the worst of times, and working for what was basically a cult, with no way to leave, was probably considered the worst of times. 

She missed drinking with him. 

She missed sitting in the Risk and Understanding dining room, head on the table, resting on her folded arms like a kid sleeping in school, head swimming, Parsons rambling about something or another. She was always too muddled to hear it, much less understand it.

She missed the fellowship.

She didn’t miss Martine.

Wherever she was now, it wasn’t under her control. If it was, Hugh, who may have been head of diplomatics but also acted as head of humanities in some ways, though they didn't have a humanities department, would have just told her to put ice on it and be on her way. Here, wherever here was, was different. Actual medical treatment. She had a  _ wrist brace  _ for Christ’s sake. A minor injury like a wrist fracture was a daily occurance back at Martine’s base.

Maybe it was a government facility. What Martine was doing  _ was  _ illegal. The Do Good Fellowship had been labelled a terrorist organization, last she heard.

What did it matter? Going to prison was a hundred times better than being practically forced to work for Martine.

Then again, if it was prison, they probably would have told her that. Kaiden had been, quiet. Secretive.

Thoughts of rogues and rebels crept into her mind, but she forced them away.

* * *

Black fur blurred through the stretch of field as the doberman sped forwards, tearing through plant and soil. Tongue hanging from its mouth as its jaws snapped, it lunged and leaped, kicking up dirt into the wind.

Before it, slowly losing ground, a hare, ears blown back by the wind, tail rippling.

Images flashed in Mary’s mind of the dog, younger, ears lopsided and hanging, and the hare, eyes curious and wide. Rain pounded down on the two creatures, but they huddled together from the lightning crackling above.

The doberman let a great burst of energy tear through its legs as it galloped past the hare, picking its small body in its maw. Digging its legs into the ground like a barrel horse, it stopped, shaking the hare’s body in its mouth.

Finishing its play, the dog opened its jaw, allowing the hare to drop to the grass, limp and bloody.

As the dog trekked in the other direction, the hare stumbled to their feet, watching him go.

Mary grumbled as she awoke, trying to roll onto her side, but soon giving up, and drifting back into a fitful, dreamless slumber.

* * *

Remy repeatedly pushed down the mouse button in a steady rhythm as he leaned forward in his chair.

The window behind the computer desk had clearly been broken before, with the spiderwebbing seam cutting it in half haphazardly patched with duct tape. 

Despite, it was still a window and, through its muffle of dust and smears, he could see the vast field outside. 

It felt odd. 

He had never truly registered Martine’s base as a location. It felt like a place beyond space, behind time, even. He hardly noticed as winter turned to spring. The base, the parts he had been in at least, were windowless. A place above space. 

He was in Kansas. 

He was in a place abiding by the rules of time and space. 

Outside, grass grew and hares wandered. 

It was the middle of nowhere, sure, with nothing nearby but an abandoned farm and a dead forest, but it was a location. 

For the first time in months, Remy felt hope. 

Maybe he would see his brother again, when things were safe, when Nadiya was alone like she wanted to be, when Irene and Kardala had reconciled and could share the body, when Mary was safe and no longer lashing out every time she perceived nothing at all to be a threat. Then he could see his brother. Then life could be back to normal. 

He realized he had been staring into space, and quickly sat back up. 

It was, odd, to be sitting at a computer desk again. It felt too normal. It had been so long since he had been just some guy at the berg, helping people with their computers, which he swore half of them didn’t know the simplest thing about, and helping acquaintances from R&D make Joe’s computer play darude sandstorm on endless loop until he got Potts to fix it. 

Potts was dead now, and Joe was evil. He was sure that many friends had suffered the same fates. 

The world was over. 

Nothing would ever be the same. 

Nadiya would never forgive herself for what her polymer was used for. Irene could never accept that her body was no longer her own. Whatever Mary had gone through, even as she refused to speak of it, would haunt her till she died, which may have already happened. 

Nothing will ever be the same. 

That didn’t mean things couldn’t be better, though.

He was a superhero for Christ’s sake. He could scale buildings in moments and leap ravines.

Nadiya was a scientist, and now she was truly saving people. Her research was fighting a  _ war _ . Irene, the tiny woman from HR who wouldn’t dare offend anyone, had stood up to Lid, and the damn goddess in her mind. 

He couldn’t say the same for Mary, but he could hope. 

Hope wasn’t much. 

But it was all he had. 

If, no, not if,  _ when  _ Mary was safe, she would be back to normal. Calm. No longer flinching away from everything. No more nightmares. No more seizures. 

She was fine. She had to be. 

Remy couldn’t stand any more loss in this war. 

He glanced back at the computer, his vision a bit unfocused, as he was still looking out the window from the corner of his eye, but still able to make out what was on the screen. 

Kenny Tatsuki, head of IT, though he may as well have been a humanities operative with how much time he spent in their wing on account of Fawn being his closest friend, had spoken to him briefly, though he seemed quite wrapped up in something on his computer at the time. 

According to him, and some brief snippets from Jonesy, IT was the department with the most varied responsibilities. 

Though they were vast, they mainly consisted of keeping tabs on the enemy, as well as maintaining the base. 

As Kenny had said, “Don't tell Jonesy I said this, but she really has no idea to work her way around a computer. Abbey took over most of the tracking and stuff, but she's busy with the index now, so Jonesy has taken over. But she  _ kinda _ sucks at it, so, if you could take that over? Abbey can help.”

So, here he was, after a brief conversation with Abbey, sitting at a computer. 

Less than a week ago, the same computer had been being used to track him and Irene. And Addison. 

He hoped they were doing okay. 

Irene had told him about the confrontation with Lid, and how she had seen Addison looking so much better afterwards. 

God knew how they were doing without Irene. 

The others, too. Lid, and Elxa, and Flanagan, and Sylvain and Grey.

And Jamie. 

Jamie, the only one besides Addison who hadn’t been completely hostile towards them. Remy would go as far as to call her a friend. 

He didn’t know where she was. 

She had to be alive, though. 

She had to be. 

Of course she was. 

They all were. 

This war would end soon. All wars had to end sometime. 

Remy looked back at the computer in front of him. 

Maybe he could help end it sooner. 

* * *

Flanagan’s silver hair and pale skin practically blended into the white, metal wall as he leaned against it, one leg up, sole flat against the wall, and arms crossed. 

The air was stilled fizzling with the black energy of his powers, fizzling against Addison’s skin like heat blazing on wet sidewalk, but he didn’t look tired at all. 

His countenance looked stoic, angered almost, sneering, eyelids drooping, yet flat. 

Addison missed Flanagan. 


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, for a moment, the world turns black.
> 
> TWs: Allusions to murder, mentions of child murder, mentions of blood, static, nightmares, wool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm Finch and my favorite cryptid is writing Nadiya Jones in character!

“Aren't you the least bit concerned that AS and FM will meet the same fate as JY and the others?”

“Why would I be? We're winning.”

“We won't be able to win without those two.”

“Are you insinuating these experiments will meet an, emotional, interference?”

“No, oh no! Of course not. It is just something we have to be prepared for, of course.”

“You want them in the labs?”

“Y-yes, that is, my intent.”

“Talk to Parsons. Not my problem.”

“Of course.”

* * *

The stranger in Jamie’s doorway wasn’t Kaiden this time.

This person was too tall, too lanky, with darker skin and even darker hair, an air of both seriousness and nervousness projecting off of them in mixed waves.

Unlike Kaiden, they held nothing. No clipboard, no bandages. The watch she always wore was notably absent.

They looked familiar.

Shaky and sick, Jamie sat up, using her good arm to brace herself against the mattress. Her ribs flared like a thousand tiny pinpricks, but she gritted her teeth, trying to settle into a more comfortable position.

Forcing a smirk, she asked, “Kaiden finally got tired of me?”

The figure shrugged its bony shoulders as it approached, closing the door behind it and flicking on the light switch.

Oh.

So that’s why they were familiar.

Nadiya Jones was an easy choice for the stimplant program. She was top of her class in, well, almost every class she had ever been in, not to mention nearly as accomplished in her field as Joe, as well as calm, stoic, obedient, and good under pressure. And, of course, her nigh-single-handed creation of skinthetic had certainly influenced the decision.

The mixer had been the first time Jamie had actually met her. Her demeanor had been, unexpected, to say the least. Calm and stoic, sure, but also belligerent.

She remembered the first thought to cross her mind.

If anyone could bring in Space Cadet, it was her.

After everything, though, Jamie had expected never to see her again.

And, here she was, standing in her doorway.

She was far from the imposing figure she had been at the mixer. She looked beaten, bruised, tired. There was a flare to her eyes that was missing. She looked to have been through a hell of a lot.

Jamie could understand.

Everyone in this hell of a war could.

“Kaiden says she’s busy.” Nadiya responded, the professional air around her broken by threads of caution as she rubbed her fingers over the meat of her palm.

“And you’re not?”

“Not as much as I used to be. As I would like to be.”

“Mhm. Then what are you doin’ here? Ya’ missed me?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then what? You’re some, humanities agent now?”

“Like hell. Came here to see if you were alive, I guess. Some stability in this mess.”

“Hun, if you think I’m stable-“

“Oh, I’m not accusing you of such a thing. Especially with what Remy and Irene said-“

“They’re here?”

“Yeah?”

“Where, is this place?”

Nadiya cocked her head in confusion. “What do you remember, before coming here?”

“Getting my ass kicked cause I ran outta tranq’ darts.”

“Well.” Nadiya smirked. “You’re at the rebel base, if that wasn’t obvious.”

“Ah. I thought I knew Kaiden from somewhere.” Jamie brushed her hair from her face. “What does Grace want, then?”

“Same thing you wanted with Space Cadet.”

“ _What!”_

“To help manage your powers, fucking idiot.”

“Oh.”

Nadiya seemed relieved as she hurried off, but the glance back at her was unmistakable.

Jamie muttered something and looked over the side of the bed, noticing that her thin sheet was laid in a heap on the linoleum tile.

* * *

The stuffy, thick, palpable heat, permeated the office as Remy smoothed the pad of his thumb over the side of the mouse. He pushed down on his bad leg, hearing the light squeal his cast made.

The white text on the black command prompt in the corner of the monitor beeped slightly, though his attention was drawn to the rest of the monitor.

Tracking was harder than Abbey made it seem.

He had been looking through her research when the lights went out.

Then came back on.

They flickered for a moment as he stared blankly at the static on his computer monitor.

* * *

“Didn’t work.”

“I can see that, Addison!”

* * *

“You said it would work this time, Nyota.”

“Next time. It was human error, I assure you.”

“Fix the problem. It will work next time.”

* * *

Remy’s monitor screeched as the lights above flickered at the speed of which a hummingbird's wings flapped.

Then it was over.

The lights clicked back on and the computer rebooted.

A blackout.

Just like Addison had said.

* * *

Grace shoved her muss of silver hair into a disheveled ponytail as she pricked an ear to the sound of her wife entering her office. Her mind still rung with static, and bile threatened to rise in her throat as some invisible pressure pushed on her forehead, but she forced it down.

“Can they not leave us alone for one day?” Jonesy spoke in a, clearly faked, chipper tone.

“No idea. They’re incessant as all hell.”

“They failed.”

“Yeah.”

“But that means that they tried.”

“Mhm.”

“Does Joe have any idea how this is happening?”

“Well, space cadet, of course. But, how it’s only affecting our base, I don’t know.”

“You think the kid’s still alive?”

“No way to know. Might be after that.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t blame you, you know.”

“I know.”

Jonesy stood beside her, looking up at the screen embedded into the wall. It was black, now, hardly contrasting the dimly lit office.

“You didn’t lose us this war.”

“You can stop saying that, hun.”

“I’ll stop saying it when it’s false.”

“Then stop saying it.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“What I did was stop Rin and Axil from having any chance at winning their fight. I shouldn’t have interfered. Now we have this mess on our hands. Not to mention a kid’s blood.”

“Space Cadet isn’t dead.”

“Honey, I don’t see a way she isn’t.”

“She isn’t. And if she is, then we’ve both got blood on our hands.”

“You killed a killer.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.”

“I might’ve, Gracie.”

Grace shook her head, ponytail whipping against her neck.

“Doesn't matter. And don’t call me that.”

“It’s not my fault that Jonesy can’t be made into a cute pet name!”

“I love my wife, Jonesy-ie.”

Jonesy smirked, walking forwards towards the large screen decorating the better part of the wall.

“I’ll get Kenny and Joe on this.”

“Mhm.”

“I may have lost us this war, but if we’re going down, we’re going down fighting.”

* * *

Jonesy always knew when her wife had a nightmare.

It was never hard to tell. Eyes closed tightly, hands gripping the blanket like a lifeline, teeth bared.

She was getting used to it now.

She wished she wasn’t.

“Honey, Grace, hun, wake up.” Jonesy hummed, reaching her hand forward to take her wife’s quivering one in it. Gently, she rubbed small circles into the back of her hand with her thumb, calming its shivers best she could.

Grace mumbled something incoherently, something that, would it have been full volume, would have sounded like angry shouting.

“Grace,” Jonesy coaxed, “Honey.”

Grace’s eyelids twitched, then fluttered open, her glassy gaze meeting Jonesy's.

Jonesy gave her a smile, one she wasn’t quite sure was real or not.

“Don’t worry hun. He’s dead now. You made sure of that.”

Grace muttered something before speaking, “Don’t remind me.”

* * *

She yanked the heavy, scratchy, grey wool blanket over her head as she rolled over in bed once more.

Nightmares, again, she mused with a grimace. They had been getting more frequent now, more than ever before. Well, since the trial, that is.

She couldn’t tell what time it was, nor did she want to look. Still, with summer quickly approaching, the base was growing warmer, and, after slight deliberation, she tossed the rough blanket off of her and to the floor.

Even with the sickening warmth preventing her rest, she found herself almost, lonely.

It had been so long since she had slept alone.

It wouldn’t be much longer now.

She _will_ win this war.

She _will_ see Aarin again.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But this time it was greater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: Needles, hospital settings, flatlining, dream death, auditory hallucinations, alcohol withdrawal delirium, starvation, wishing for ones own death in a way that could be seen as suicidal

White. 

Mary’s eyes burned with white.

The tiles of the linoleum wall pressed into her back, barely shielded by the thin bed sheet she had draped over her shoulders like a cape. 

Her forehead throbbed with the beep of the heart monitor, bile threatening to rise in her throat.

A shiver wracked her body, and she felt herself dry heave for a moment, claws tearing at her throat. She would hardly be surprised if she started to cough blood. It wouldn’t be the first time. She hadn’t eaten in days, she didn’t have anything else to cough up. 

Bad thought. Bad thought. 

Her stomach seized, threatening to make her throw up again. 

Mary was hungry, and tired, and scared, and cold, and, she didn’t know what she was.

This was hell. This is what her parents had always preached about. 

She wanted to see them. More than anything else.

Mary Sage just wanted to go home. 

But, here she was, hiding in the corner of a blank, uncaring, white hospital room, with nothing but the bed and the IV stand.

Alone.

The heart monitor continued to hum. 

Beep. Beep. Beep.  _ Beeeeeeeep _ .

* * *

Nyota rested her chin in one hand while tapping away at the computer with the other, steam still hissing from the lid of her coffee mug as the beverage quickly cooled. 

“How do you ever manage to do it?” She chuckled half heartedly at the broad shouldered man with shaggy black hair beside her.  

“D-d-dunno. Try to focus on work, I gu-guess.” The man, Hugh, responded from where he sat next to her, voice accented by a slight stutter.

“Trust me, I’m trying. Just don’t want to, y’know, deal with her wrath.”

“Just don’t k-k-kill the kid.”

“We’re trying. But you can only extend life so long. We don’t have the data, the experiments, on other enhanceds to know what will and won’t kill it.”

“Wasn’t that what you wanted with S-S-Scorpio?”

“Yeah. From what we’ve seen, most physic enhancements work the same. For now, we can just guess. As close to life support as we can get without risking it, like, never waking up again.”

“M-Martine would kill you.”

“She’d kill both of us.”

* * *

Mary woke up in a cold sweat. 

Instinctively, she attempted to bolt to a sitting position, but the harsh clink of chain and the biting of angry metal restraints on bare skin kept her wrists fastened firmly to the bedrail. 

Staring up at the ceiling, all she saw was white. 

She wasn’t dead. She didn’t think she was. 

The heart monitor beeped steadily on. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Looking at the tubes running in and out of her arms and throat, she wished it would stop.

She didn’t struggle when the woman in the white coat stuck a long, thin needle in her arm, and she slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

Before she heard it, all Jamie heard was the buzzing.

She had worked out a system of time. Well, it wasn’t exactly a system. More so that Kaiden would just tell her what day it was.

April 14, she repeated to herself in her mind. Over and over. April 14.

116 days since the broadcast.

Almost four months.

Almost half a year.

7 days since she had woken up in this hospital room.

One week.

A fourth of a month.

Four days since the buzzing had started.

God knows how long until it would stop.

It was, incessant, like a thought that kept bringing itself to the forefront of her attention. Sometimes, it was quiet, and she found herself thinking if it had finally gone. Then, as if she was a child who had just looked behind her to see if some monster was still following her, it would come back, pressing in on all sides of her head, though, it was never accompanied with any pain.

When it happened, she had given into the buzzing as it slowly grew louder, like static on the TV, and had her hands pressed over her ears, trying, desperately, to just block it out. To just get it to leave her the fuck alone.

She was distracted, if only as a brief solace, by the crackle of static.

And then, the lights went out.

Just like they had five days ago.

But this time it was greater.

This time, they succeeded.

* * *

When Remy heard it, he was in the second floor cafeteria, absentmindedly stirring the noodles in his bowl as he stared at the table next to his, where two people he didn’t recognize were laughing at something on a phone.

A phone.

He hadn’t seen one of those in a while.

“Rembrandt.” Nadiya spoke, snapping her fingers to accentuate her statement. 

“H-What?” He responded, shaking his hair out.

“You’re spacing out.” 

“Yeah, uh, sorry bout’ that. What were you saying?”  
“I was _asking_ how your leg is.”

Remy shrugged. “I’d assume it’s doing better.”

“Yeah.”

Talking to her like this, like before all of this had happened, almost made him forget the pain in his leg, and what had caused it.

And then, the lights went out.

Just like they had five days ago.

But this time it was greater.

This time, they succeeded.

* * *

When it happened, Irene found herself in Grace’s office.

“Is, there something you wanted to talk about?” Irene questioned as she stepped through the door, closing it behind her. It was cooler down here on the first floor, she noted.

“Yeah, uh,” Grace seemed somewhat distracted by something on her computer, “Sit down.”

Irene did so, seating herself in the chair across from the one Grace was seated in, on the other side of her desk.

She hesitated a moment before speaking, “Is this about Kardala?”

“Kinda.” Grace made an ‘eh’ gesture with the hand not busied by typing. “This was, meant to be of Joe’s statement, but I doubt that you want to face him.”

After not taking the form of the goddess for many days, though her voice still prevalent in her mind, she had almost forgotten the sense of urgency plaguing her, telling her with every moment that she had not much time left to act on her own free will.

“Why would I not want to face Jo-”

And then, the lights went out.

Just like they had five days ago.

But this time it was greater.

This time, they succeeded.

The great screen embedded into the wall lit with a fire of static, turning red, then blue, then purple, before settling on grey.

The room was silent for a moment.

Grace sighed, hauling herself to her feet as she shoved a headset over her ears.

Clear, as if the speaker stood next to them, a voice spoke, “So nice to finally get to speak to you.”

With a disgruntled countenance, Grace sniped, “Have you never heard of Skype, Martine?”


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martine has no idea what skype is. Mary can't even do one pushup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ttttthis ones a dozey.  
> Warnings for blood, domestic violence, violent alcoholism, murder, suicide, gangs, delusions, death, domestic violence, strangulation, infant death  
> (Note: This chapter is mainly exposition. These things aren't shown, only mentioned. Still, tread with caution.)

“Have you never heard of Skype, Martine?”

“Grace,” the way Martine spoke was long, drawn out, as if she were attempting to say the letter ‘l’, but pronouncing a whole word instead. “You know, I’ve tried to speak to you before. But you wouldn’t answer.” 

“Lying brat! If your form of communication is fighting, then yeah, we’ve answered.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the fights. You know, it’s awful hard to contact someone when you don’t know where they are.”

“Good.”

“Well, now we’re talking, hm? So, what does it matter.”

“You want to talk about your delusional bullshit again, huh?”

“My w-“

“Your imaginary wife.”

Martine grinding her teeth was audible through the speakers. “Well if I wanted to talk about that, why don’t we talk about David and James, huh?”

Now was Grace’s turn to clench her fists and glare at the blank screen. “Now you’re just acting like a child. Unless you contacted me just get continue an old argument?”

“Of course not. Grace, you must realize that this war is pointless, hm?”

“You say that, as the actual aggressor of this shit?”

“I never started this. You started it by forming a splinter group. We would be so much further if you’d have joined us in the first place, hm?”

“Oh yes, join your cult.”

“It is not a cult!”

“It’s absolutely a cult.”

“Well, nevermind that. I wanted to talk to you, about peace! About ending this petty thing.”

Grace chuckled. “You’re losing so badly you’re crawling to me, begging for peace?”

“Oh, Grace, Grace, Grace. I’m winning! I’m just giving you a chance to, say, live?”

Grace went silent for a moment before speaking.

“Winning this war won’t bring Aarin back.”

“No need to bring back someone who’s alive!”

“You’re the only one in this whole wide goddamn world who thinks she’s alive.”

“See, see, see. This is why you always lose, Gracie. You’re so, persistent. Even when strangling your husband to death!”

“If this is a peace talk, then why not be  _ peaceful. _ ”

She seemed to be waiting for Martine to respond, but there was nothing.

With a sigh, Grace collapsed into her desk chair, putting her head on the desk atop her folded arms.

* * *

Mary collapsed.

She had been panting, blood trickling from her nose and the corner of her mouth, before she practically threw herself to her knees on the concrete floor.

Addison could see tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she dry heaved onto the concrete, coughing up splatters of blood and phlegm. They could see her shaking, trembling, shivering. 

_ Why _ .

Why did this have to happen to them? They were just kids. All they and Flanagan had ever wanted was to get out of that house. They never wanted a war. 

They just wanted to go home. 

Mary’s arms shook under her weight, and, after a moment of heaving for air, she fell to the floor in a heap. 

All for the sake of this stupid war. 

Addison remembered wistfully the days before this had happened. When Space Cadet was Mary Sage and not the test subject. When she had been she and not it. 

Addison sighed and knelt down next to the collapsed form of Mary. 

They moved their hand towards her hair, hoping to provide any sort of comfort, but quickly pulled it away. 

Would Mary really want to be comforted by them, of all people?

Addison had been the one to hurt her. Even now, the smell of ozone emanated from their hand, from where they had transmitted Flanagan’s power. 

Flanagan may have given them the gun, but they were the one to shoot it. 

They looked at their hand, static still buzzing around the tips of their fingers, and gently took Mary’s hand in theirs. 

Rubbing circles in the back of her hand with their thumb all the while, Addison helped Mary into a sort of sitting position. 

After all, they were just kids. This wasn’t their fight. 

Even if Mary was far from a kid now. Even if her eyes were glazed over as she stared at the concrete floor incoherently. Even if she was unable to speak or eat or stand. 

This was not her fight. 

* * *

Irene rocked from one foot to the other nervously, hesitating for a long while before asking,

“What was that?”

“Kurtz being a petty little bitch, as always.”

“No it's, not that. I know what Mary's powers can accomplish. Just, gah, what is her deal with Aarin! What the hell is going on!? You  _ said _ you would tell us everything.”

Grace sounded like a grumpy toddler as she responded, “I told you as much as the others know.”

“I don't care!”

“Well,” Grace sat up, slowly, stretching her arms over her head and examining what looked like a chipped nail, “Have you ever heard of the Québec Murder-Suicide of 1999?”

Irene thought about it for a moment. She remembered something like that, though it had been almost twenty years.

“Yeah.”

“You see,” She sighed, looking her in the eyes, “I killed David Eldridge.”

Irene nearly stumbled over her own feet as she backpedaled. 

“You  _ what _ !?”

“Well. It’s a story I don’t like to tell. But, heh, guess I’ve no choice. 

I met David in college, and, he seemed like a decent guy. We were together for years, and we, married. 

After that things went, well, downhill. He picked up drinking, but I stayed with him. He was alright. Even though he could be, violent, at times. 

Until I came home to find our baby boy, James, well, dead. Bloody. 

David had killed the light of my life because of his stupid drinking habit. So, well, I’m not proud of it, but I killed him. Got a new identity. Moved to America. Faked my own death. And, here we are.”

“You, killed someone?”

A million terrified thoughts ran through her mind, not a single one able to be contained in words. This was a dream. It had to be. She would wake up and everything would be ok.

“Yes.”

Irene hesitated. “Then, what does that have to do with Aarin?”

“That would be, Martine’s side of the story. 

Martine was the wife of Aarin Kurtz, one of the most powerful mafia bosses of the day. Until her trial, and subsequent death in the riot. You must remember those, well, the manhunt for some of the other gang members. Martine isn’t her real name either. 

Well, needless to say, after the trial, Martine was heartbroken. This, all she does, the broadcast, this war, it was all, it is all, in her attempt to free Aarin. 

She thinks she’s still alive, and she’ll fight a war to prove that.”


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flanagan is a thespian. Nadiya and Remy make a funky discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Blood, handcuffs, desensitization, blood, self harm (not cutting), bones, passing out from pain, and bone breakage
> 
> Note: The song lyrics featured in this chapter are from a musical that debuted in 2015. However, the scene is supposed to take place in 2011. It's a superhero story where Ben Franklin is king of america though, so I think it's okay.

“Can you turn that down?” A teenager grumbled, rolling over in bed and pulling the blanket over them. The sound of music, despite being muffled, was still audible from the other side of the room.

“Come on, it’s only eleven.” Another teenager protested.

“And we have to be awake tomorrow morning. The others will eat all the breakfast if we don’t.”

“I’ll be awake!”

“Not if you listen to music all night.”

There was a shuffling noise as a figure approached the bed. The second teenager kneeled next to the bed, and the first one sat up.

“Here.” They said, taking out one of their earbuds and handing it to the other. Even just holding it in their hand, they could feel the vibrations caused by the loud music.

Hesitantly and hastily, they shoved it in one ear as the other climbed onto the bed next to them. They sat with their backs pressed against the wall, the music player between them.

_Rock the house and make a scene_  
_And crank the amps to seventeen_  
_And scream until their ears are shot_  
_They all can kiss your you-know-what_ _  
_ Do everything they ever tried to ban

“Stick it to the man.” The kid holding the music player hummed.

_When the world has screwed you_  
_And crushed you in its fist_  
_When the way you're treated_  
_Has got you good and pissed_  
_There's been one solution_  
_Since the world began_  
_Don't just sit and take it_  
“Stick it to the man.” The two teenagers hummed in unison.

* * *

“Rock the house and make a scene and crank the amps to seventeen,” Flanagan hummed under his breath, rhythmically tapping his index finger against the table as he did so. Though quiet, Addison could still tell that his singing was awkward and off-key.

Just like how it used to be.

Addison missed Flanagan. The _real_ Flanagan.

After the second blackout, things went back to normal.

Well, most things.

Nadiya had noticed Irene had become, just slightly, distant. Disattached. Sure, she was still the same smiling, laughing woman, but something was, off.

Still, Nadiya had shrugged it off. If she had a goddess in her head, she probably wouldn’t be too happy about it either.

Despite, Nadiya was feeling more and more like, well, Nadiya.

Sure, biomedical engineering was her field of expertise and, technically the field she was working in now didn’t exist, to the point where Ora just called it “bullshit-ology,” but the two were close enough.

Being in a lab, even if said lab was really just a hospital room haphazardly painted beige, and even if the door was heavy and steel and the only locked from the outside for whatever reason, which luckily had never locked her in, though she had heard stories of such things happening because their friends thought it would be funny, it was still a _lab_.

So, she busied herself, as she always had. Jamie’s case certainly was interesting, even if the person she was studying was an asshole.

And, here she found herself, at the table shoved up against the wall, half-asleep, scrolling through her data that she had acquired after having to deal with Jamie’s bullshit practically all day.

She expected to retire to bed soon. It was growing late, and she was quite sure she wouldn’t be able to get any more work done before she passed out at her desk.

That had been her plan, at least.

She hadn’t been expecting for her watch to begin to buzz, and a white screen to pop up from it.

“Nadiya.” It spelled out in thick, white letters. “Do you know where my office is.”

It showed that the message was from Remy, though the tone was terse. Odd.

“Yeah.” She typed back. The feeling of typing on a hologram was odd, but she found herself getting used to it.

“Come here. Right now. I need to show you something.”

* * *

“What is it?” Nadiya grumbled, standing behind Remy’s chair, nearly asleep on her feet.

“Well,” Remy scrolled through a large folders worth of files, “I found some, funky security footage.”

Nadiya hesitated before speaking, “I don’t care what you found, don’t describe anything as funky ever again.”

“Fair.”

“Alright, well. You remember when we went to the top floor and saw some, f, uh, some bullshit?”

“Yes?” She spoke, drawing out the ‘y.’

“So, apparently that place is a lab, and, well.”

Remy scooted his chair back so that Nadiya could see the screen. He held up the mouse in one hand, shining a dapple of red light onto the wall, and clicked the left mouse button.

A video on the screen began to play.

* * *

More than anything, the room was dark.

Pure darkness clung to the corners and creases of the walls, while dim overpowered the rest, the black occasionally blotted out by dapples of green or red light shining from a bank of machines shoved up against the wall.

However, the darkness seemed not to bother the three people in the room.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Grace,” Jonesy complained, “I’m fine, we’ve done this plenty of times.”

“I know, I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“We’re married, Jonesy.”

“Well, you’re still acting like my mom. I’m almost as old as you are!”

“Two years.”

“Shut up!”

“Alright.” Joe interjected. “That’s everything. Are you two ready?”

Jonesy instantly sounded annoyed as she spoke, “Duh.”

Joe faltered, but didn’t react more than that, “Alright, uh, give me a moment to turn it on.”

He made his way over to the bank of machines, fiddling with them for a moment. From one of the machines sprung a braid of wires, that untwisted and hooked into some sort of black mesh armsleeve that decorated both of Jonesy’s arms.

“Alright. Grace, on your signal.”

Grace ruffled Jonesy’s hair, then spoke, “Go.”

And, with that, the video cut out.

* * *

“Reason we can't trust Joe number like, two thousand.” Nadiya commented.

Remy faltered. “Yeah.”

* * *

Addison Solie was used to loud noises. Shouting, fighting, and alarms were all commonplace. They were quite desensitized to them now.

That didn’t mean that they weren’t at least somewhat surprised when Mary woke up in a frenzied panic.

They spent quite a lot of time, now, hanging around her hospital room. They couldn’t really explain why. Mary couldn’t really be considered a friend, not now. Not when she was nearly completely unresponsive. There was hardly a person left to befriend.

She had been waking up more frequently now. Though, maybe waking up wasn’t the right word to describe it.

Her eyes would open, glassy as they were, and she would simply stare up at the ceiling tiles. Every once in a while her hand would twitch, and then she would fall back asleep.

Mary opening her eyes and twitching wasn’t what surprised Addison.

It was the sobbing.

Addison thought their eyes were playing a trick on them when they saw as Mary sat up, shivering, staring at nothing, but after blinking, they confirmed that, yes, this truly was happening.

She was still for a moment, before she gritted her teeth, and began to cry.

Another moment of stillness.

Before she freaked out.

Mary yanked viciously at the cuffs holding her down, actions more like that of a furious toddler than someone thinking about their actions.

Addison watched as pure, liquid scarlet drained from where the cuffs tore at skin.

When they heard the crack of bone, they thought they were about to throw up.

Mary was still once more, before her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed back onto the bed.

* * *

 


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy finds conversations of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Non consensual drug use, self harm, blood, tasers, suicidal thoughts, and anxiety attacks

 

**dp.solie.addison@dgf.la.us**

**Solie, Addison**

**to**

**Benwick, Joseph**

Hey, Joe. I know you’re busy but Grace told me that she doesn’t have any information about Sage’s condition, and to ask you about it. I know I’m not family or anything, but Mary was acting really weird after the whole stimplant thing.  
How’s she doing? I’d like to see her, if possible.

 Diplomatics Department,

Operative,

Addison Solie

 

**rd.benwick.joseph@dgf.la.us**

**Benwick, Joseph**

**to**

**Solie, Addison**

 

Due to this whole situation likely being connected to the stimplants, Sage’s case is currently being handled by the Research and Development department.

Her condition is still serious, but I assure you we’re doing what we can.

I’ll be sure to notify you if new information is discovered, but, honestly, we know about as much as you right now.

Research and Development Department,

Department Head,

Joseph Benwick

 

**dp.solie.addison@dgf.la.us**

**Solie, Addison**

**to**

**Benwick, Joseph**

 

Thank you.

Bring her back to us, please.

Diplomatics Department,

Operative

Addison Solie

* * *

Addison’s leg bounced as they sat straight-up in their desk chair, phone in hand, reading over Joe’s message, over and over again.

Her condition was serious.

They had seen enough medical dramas to know that that couldn't mean anything good.

They found themselves picturing the scene in the stimplant installation room, now. Feeling worn out and a bit woozy after the whole thing, but overall, all they wanted was to take a nap and eat a snack.

Mary had been, different.

She had expressed her worries about it to Addison beforehand. She had admitted to being a bit claustrophobic, and getting anxious when many things were going on at once.

So, when Mary dropped to her hands and knees, trembling, afterwards, Addison’s greatest worry was that she was having an anxiety attack.

They had never expected for all the lights in the room to go out. They had never expected her to pass out and be dragged away by worried, muttering Humanities operatives.

Still, they had stayed by their phone. Hoping for a text from her. Anything. Anything confirming that she had just gotten a bit freaked out, and that she would make it to movie night.

Nothing.

The stimplants had hurt her. She was in serious condition.

Addison only hoped Mary made it out alive.

* * *

**rd.benwick.joseph@dgf.la.us**

**Benwick, Joseph**

**to**

**Ayer, Martine**

 

I understand this this would normally be Grace’s problem, but, with her, current darkness of the situation, you’re the one to turn to, I guess.

There has been some, emotional interference. Of a severe form. I don’t know if it would be advisable to continue on at this point

Research and Development Department,

Department Head,

Joseph Benwick

**sc.ayer.martine@dgf.la.us**

**Ayer, Martine**

**to**

**Benwick, Joseph**

 

Be specific.

 

Security Department,

Department Head,

Martine Ayer

 

**rd.benwick.joseph@dgf.la.us**

**Benwick, Joseph**

**to**

**Ayer, Martine**

 

Refusal to eat, refusal to drink, attempts to harm self, attempts to harm operatives. Bit Isaac so hard it drew blood.

 

Research and Development Department,

Department Head,

Joseph Benwick

 

**sc.ayer.martine@dgf.la.us**

**Ayer, Martine**

**to**

**Benwick, Joseph**

 

Then sedate her.

 

Security Department,

Department ahead,

Martine Ayer

 

**rd.benwick.joseph@dgf.la.us**

**Benwick, Joseph**

**to**

**Ayer, Martine**

 

Understood.

Research and Development Department,

Department Head,

Joseph Benwick

* * *

Mary found her breathing mimicking the heart monitor as she lay on the cold, linoleum floor, curled up, almost like a cat, legs tucked in, protecting her abdomen.

Her teeth gently dug into her skin from where she absentmindedly gnawed on the flesh in her arm. She was sure the blood in her mouth was staining her skin but, hell, what did it matter at this point. The cuts her nails had dug in it were already bleeding so much, it would be unnoticable.

Along with her breathing, her ever-present headache, too, throbbed with the heart monitor.

It was a nice noise, almost.

Reminded her that she was still alive. For now.

Mary didn’t react when she heard the door open. What did it matter.

Grumbling at the earsplitting squeal of the hinges, she hauled herself to her knees. Though she tried to ignore it, her stomach felt to flip inside her abdomen as she looked forwards, vision swimming.

Someone come to bother her. Of course. She couldn’t even have a moment of peace, could she?

Instinctively, Mary began absentmindedly looking over the figure. Maybe she would recognize them.

Shorter, a woman, with her brown hair in a bob cut. She wouldn’t have looked like much of a threat had it not been for the gun on the belt around her pocket.

More than anything, she looked bored. Desensitized to all this.

Mary could understand that.

Slowly, the redhead struggled to her hands and knees, then her feet. She had to lean against the wall to stay upright, though it felt awful on her hands.

God, only after standing up did she realize how _dry_ her mouth was. She felt like death, and her lightheadedness certainly wasn’t helping.

With a grumble, the woman looked at something beyond the door, and began to approach Mary.

She wrestled something from her belt that looked more like a flashlight than anything, brandishing it at her side like a sword.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with.” She grumbled. She didn’t sound to be addressing Mary, but she couldn’t be sure.

With a flick of her wrist, the black cylinder extended, a tapering, silver pole leaping from its end.

Mary may have been about as muddled as a dog after the vet, but she was still coherent enough to tell that this woman wanted to hurt her.

Before the armed woman even got a chance to move forwards, the redhead lunged.

She went for the arm holding the baton before anything else. Unsteadiness forgotten, she charged forward, catching the woman off guard as she grabbed her by the shoulder, attempting to twist her arm.

Her attack was broken off by a stab of pain in her back.

Mary Sage began to scream.

Fire ripped through her veins and all the strength left in her evaporated. She was still for a moment, before collapsing to her hands and knees, shivering.

Mary was forced to her knees by a sharp tug on her hair, quickly followed by her hands being roughly yanked behind her back and held together. Her fingers began to feel cold as the circulation was cut off.

“Alright, Bailey, come on. Let’s get this over with.” The woman restraining her spoke, and, though she didn’t look up, Mary could still hear footsteps approaching over the ringing in her ears.

“Did you really have to taze her?” Asked a smaller voice, accented by a stutter.

“I’m busy. This didn’t need to take longer than it has to. Just do what Joe said.”

Mary heard a hum of agreement, and everything was still, before she felt a long, thin needle slip through the flesh of her arm. No point in resisting. Just let it happen.

Maybe you’ll be lucky. Maybe they’ve finally decided to kill you.

She felt the cold liquid disperse into her veins as the two people left.

Mary laid back down, curling into a ball once more.

She figured she should go back to sleep.

She had always heard dying in your sleep was a peaceful way to go.

* * *

**rd.benwick.joseph@dgf.la.us**

**Benwick, Joseph**

**to**

**Wilder, Grace**

 

Wilder, do not take this as me accusing you, but would you happen to know anything regarding the whereabouts of Space Cadet?

 

Research and Development Department,

Department Head,

Joseph Benwick

 

**hu.wilder.grace@dgf.la.us**

**Wilder, Grace**

**to**

**Benwick, Joseph**

 

I already told you that my department is not going to interfere with the situation.

 

Humanities Department,

Department Head

Grace Wilder

* * *

Remy found himself reading over the emails, now. It seemed that most of the fellowship data had been restored.

He felt sick to his stomach, just reading about it.

He looked at his watch, considering sending Nadiya another message. Calling her down. Showing her this.

He quickly decided against it.

She would be talking to Joe tomorrow. She didn’t need another reason to be angry at him.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe just wants to be left alone. Remy makes a split second decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as bad this time, but a small warning for mentions of seizures

Luckily for Nadiya, it was far from difficult to find Joe alone.

From what she had seen, he awoke soon after dawn, and would retire to his office almost immediately.

No one else was ever in there. He didn’t seem to have much in the way of friends.

Good. Fuck Joe.

With his lack of social contact in any form outside of brushing past others in the hall, Nadiya had no need to ask anyone where he was. She already knew.

Despite the fact that this man had used to be her boss, and still kind of was, she hardly felt odd barging into his office and speaking:

“What the hell?”

Joe, hair as frayed as ever, looked up at her, eyes sunken. He was busy with something on a computer, and his bangs were still damp from splashing water onto his face.

“What is it?” He mumbled, looking up.

“Joe,” she hesitated, “Does Jonesy have powers?”

“Oh.” He scratched at his cuticles, dandruff flaking as his nails dug into his scalp. “This is about that.”

“I asked a question. Like, a yes or no question. Can you stop being vague for five seconds?”

“Yes. Jonesy has powers. Electromagnetic wave manipulation. She was in a trio with Martin and Potts. I thought we were being quiet enough. I guess not.”

“What the hell were you doing?”

“Long story.”

The room was quite dimly lit, with most of the light coming from the laptop on Joe’s desk, and the desk lamp next to it.  Nadiya, still standing close to the door, flicked the lightswitch on, causing Joe to hiss and shield his eyes from the suddenly brightened room.

“Ok, fine, don’t make this a fucking interrogation.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me explain.”

* * *

The room was silent except for the light hum of Jonesy’s watch as she tapped away at the holographic screen it emitted. The lights were dimmed, but still on, with some areas of wall slightly brighter due to the screen’s illumination.

She swiped a window from the hologram, moving it to the great screen on the wall of Grace’s office. The window showed a map, with three blinking dots within a relatively short distance of one another.

Jonesy didn’t react as the door creaked open, and Grace appeared beside her, looking up at the screen.

“They’ve left D.C?” Grace questioned.

“Both groups have.” Jonesy answered.

She tapped on one of the dots on the map, and a new window opened. It showed a rather blurry image of a crashed skimmer.

“Skimmer 5 crash landed at 3:34 PM, day of the broadcast.” She tapped a second dot, this time bringing up a pdf of a police report. “Twenty minutes later, a van was stolen, less than a mile from the crash site.”

“We need to find those kids.”

“Mhm. We’ll lose this war if we don’t”

Jonesy hesitated, before swiping another window onto the screen. This time, it showed a blueprint of sorts, a 3D model of one, albeit.

The device shown looked like something from a science news article. A long, spindly wire had branches of wire hanging off of it like roots, and at the top of the base wire sat what looked like a raspberry pi with a solid metal casing. From this case emerged two cables, which extended to off the edge of the blueprint.

Grace was about to speak, but her wife interrupted her.

“We need to talk to them. If Sage’s powers deal with sending and receiving electronic impulses, then-“

“You can use your powers to talk to them!”

“Exactly. But, the range isn’t nearly far enough if they’re traveling through the upper Midwest. I couldn’t even reach them if they were in the same state as us.”

“You aren’t-“

“I am. Joe designed this device, he can design one to enhance my powers, too.”

“I’m not letting you do that to yourself. The device was never implanted because it could’ve killed Sage!”

“It was never implanted because they didn’t have time. And this was a prototype.”

“You’ll still hurt yourself.”

“It’s not going to be a brain implant. My powers aren’t the same as hers.”

“You really think this will work?”

“If we can keep Sage away from Martine, we’ve already won half the battle.”

* * *

“Mary’s seizures were-“ Nadiya started, before being interrupted by Joe.

“Caused by Jonesy’s powers. We tried to contact you.”

“Mary never said anything.”

“Doesn’t trust anybody. She’s afraid of you.”

“Why do I feel you were involved in that, somehow?”

Joe chuckled nervously, looking away.

“Nadiya, I’ve done a lot of things I regret.”

* * *

Remy’s breath billowed back in his face, it’s warmth standing stark against the cold of the room. His back pressed against the base plate of the car he had hidden under, the rough metal uncomfortably digging into his shoulder blades.

He watched as four pairs of shoes walked past in the center of the corridor, towards the grumbling noise of the opening garage door.

Slowing his breathing, he waited in silence as they passed and clambered up a ramp, into a skimmer.

Remy wasn’t quite sure why he was doing this. He had no reason to be. The External Affairs department, Litti and his team, were trained to handle situations like this. It was their job.

Used to be his, too, before he had come here.

His ears still stung, though his leg was getting better.

Still, despite his time at Martine’s base being a living hell, he missed the others. Addison especially.

What would it hurt to make sure they were, at the very least, alright?

And so, here he found himself.

He breathed, in and out, waiting till it would be safe to go. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!

Alright, Remy, go.

He slithered from under the car, hauling himself to his hands and knees. He had calculated the time it took for the skimmer to leave after an alert went out.

Six minutes.

He still had a minute to get in the cargo compartment.

Remy set his sights on the door embedded into the skimmer, and ran.

He skidded to a stop, swung up the door, darted inside, and gingerly closed it behind him.

He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor.

What the hell had he been thinking?


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy is saved by an old friend and does some cool parkour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs for mentions of surgery without anesthetic, mentions of surgery, mentions of bone breakage, mentions of animal abuse, mentions of violence against children (the character is 19 but just to be safe), and knives.

Yep, Remy had fucked up.

The skimmer’s engine purred, the bottom of the cargo compartment jostling slightly with turbulence. The equipment in the back shook slightly, too, though it was hardly bothered, as the containers had been secured with ratchet straps, much like the ones used on flatbed trailers. 

He found himself clinging to one of the straps, even though he didn’t need to. It helped calm his nerves, and gave him something to brush his fingers over, even if the texture was rough and unpleasant. 

His watch told him the plane had only flew for twenty minutes before landing, but it felt like hours, his heart thumping like that of a hummingbird on redbull.

This was stupid. He could’ve just  _ asked _ Litti how Addison was. Despite her standoffish nature, she wasn’t one to brush off questions.

Yet, here he was, on a skimmer as it descended to the ground. He cursed Litti for being so cocky as he clung to a tub. 

The drone’s landing gear hit the ground with a great THUMP, followed by the engine wailing as the wheels ground against the dirt.

Damn, these things really were meant for skimming over the ocean, not the sky. 

After much jostling and mechanical screeching, the skimmer skidded to a stop on the dirt, it’s landing gear folding beneath it. 

Remy quickly collected himself, smoothing his hair and wiping any fibers from clothes. He checked his watch for messages and, upon seeing none, shut it off completely so it wouldn’t go off while he was hiding from the battle. 

He sat stiff for a moment, back straight against the wall of the compartment, breathing slowed, as he heard the slamming of doors and the shouting of orders. 

As soon as the footsteps faded, he slowly got to his feet, stretching the cramps from his legs with shivering muscles, and pressed his watch against the place where the doorknob would be. With a hiss, the air compression lock deactivated, and the door popped open. 

He was hit by a blast of cool air as he stumbled into the outside. 

Remy was quite used to how fights with the enhanced went down. Risk Understanding would find their hiding place, usually an abandoned home or warehouse, they seemed to have quite the fondness for those, they would charge in, knock them out, and bring them back. Usually he let Grey or Jamie do the knocking out part. He couldn’t help but feel bad, watching some defeated kid with no fight left in them get hurt for the sake of being hurt. 

They were almost always kids. 

You had to be physically healthy to get stimplants. And the kids raised on superhero shows and movies were more than eager to participate. 

He remembered Cane, distinctly. A sharp, bladed uppercut to the wolf’s throat had sent him sprawling in his back. Concentration lost, he reverted back his human form, bruised and battered as it was. 

He couldn’t have been more than nineteen. In fact, Remy was pretty sure that was exactly how old he was. 

Cane had given up. He cried on his hands and knees, blubbering about how he only wanted to see Ed and Lin again. 

Sylvain had laughed. Kicked him in the side of the head, knocking him out. 

Just a kid who wanted to see his friends. 

It reminded him of Mary. 

Stepping out of the skimmer, now, seemed like a change of pace from the normal abandoned warehouse or country road.

It was a town.

Thoughts of his brother flashed in his mind, but he quickly banished him. If he broke down now his throat would be slashed by Lid faster than he could count to twenty-four.

The skimmer seemed to have landed in a housing district of sorts. A slightly disheveled street had been used as a runway, kicking up a few cobbles. Homes on either side sagged into the ground, some housing wildly barking dogs on short tethers.

Over the barks and howls, however, were present the usual sounds of shouting and engines.

Remy quickly scanned the area for a place in which he could find cover, as there was bound to be gunfire. 

His eyes quickly landed upon a lopsided building, two stories tall, with a pool in back that didn’t seem to have been full of water in ages. 

Well Grace  _ had _ said that it was impossible for stimplants to give one the ability to fly.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he tore forwards. 

He was hardly sure of what happened, but a moment later he found himself atop the roof, the paint beneath his feet scraping off. 

A crash ripped through the air, and he instinctively dropped to his hands and knees. 

Slowly, he crawled to the edge of the roof, peering over the edge, which was surrounded by a raised edge of concrete. Like a dog with it's paws on the fence, he placed his hands on the top edge of the concrete, watching the battle below. ow.

It seemed to be at a standstill. A very, very odd standstill. 

In the center of an intersection was what looked like a flower bud made out of a tight weaving of vines. The vines shook as if they were controlled by an unstable puppet master. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Remy practically jumped at the voice. He looked to its source as he tensed his muscles to fight. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected, maybe one of Litti’s fighters, maybe Irene, maybe nothing, but he didn’t expect pale blue eyes and a head of silver hair full of cowlicks. 

“I didn’t think you were supposed to be here, either.” He spoke, turning away from Addison as he looked back at the vines. 

“Oh, I’m not supposed to be. Haven’t been outside in a while, though. Miss the fresh air.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Elxa ordered a withdraw as soon as Litti arrived. Tagetes won’t lower her barrier. It seems like this one might have no clear winner.”

“Tagetes?”

“Botanokinesis. Controls plants.”

“Oh. Uh, how have things been since I’ve been gone?”

“Me and Flanagan have been stuck at the base since you and Irene and Jamie left. They were worried we would disappear too. And, well, we’re too important to their plan. Cane is on our team now. Well, he doesn’t want to be. But he is. They experimented on him for a little bit, took his arm. Didn't even anesthetize the poor kid. Something about incompatible biology or whatever. You could hear the screams from the other side of the wing. Never mind that, though. After they captured the other two in his trio, same powers, they decided he would be more use on the battlefield. So, he’s here now. Uh, Mary’s not doing great. Broke her arm like two weeks ago. Freaked out, broke it herself, but, uh, it’s pretty much healed now-“

Remy’s attention was torn from their voice by a sudden burst of activity below. 

The town seemed to be built in a valley of sorts, with the building he sat on at the bottom, and the street it was on going steeply upwards. 

Over the hill appeared something he expected only to see in a fantasy manga. 

Grey fur blown back, yellow eyes vividly shining, stood a great wolf, six and a half feet at the shoulder. It’s right front leg was clearly prosthetic, with the leg itself cut off below the elbow, the rest of it resembling a pogo stick with a suction cup at the end, the whole contraption held on via an elaborate harness. 

It’s head was restrained by an elaborate equine bridle, it’s lips folded back around the bit. 

“You ever play dungeons and dragons, Remy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Elxa can’t fight for shit. But Cane can. Like a horse in that game.”

Elxa held the reins tightly in her grip, forcing Cane’s head to his neck. She signaled something to people behind her, and flicked her wrists. 

Cane charged.

The suction cup at the bottom of the fake leg stuck to the ground slightly, causing an odd sort of gait halfway between a gallop and a canter.  

The world seemed to be at a stand still as he charged past the shield of vines. He jerked his head to the side, aiming to tear at one of the vines, but instead of landing a clear shot, the vine he aimed at moved, separating itself from the barrier. 

The vine swept under his legs, and he was sent flying head over tail before skidding to a stop on the pavement. 

Shouts sounded from one of the branches of the intersection, the one opposite the building Remy and Addison were on. 

Before Cane could get to his feet, the world was shrouded in a great mushroom cloud of steam. 

“Get down!” Addison stage whispered as the gray mist shot towards them. Remy obeyed without hesitation, dropping to his hands and knees. 

Only a second after he was down, the air around him became thick and sticky, like that in a rainforest. Still, it cleared a moment later, and he returned to his former position. 

The course of the battle had drastically altered in a few mere moments. 

Litti and four others, Rin, Axil, the hydrokinetic, and the pyrokinetic, were in a loose half circle before the bud of vines, which had returned to its former state. 

The five were locked in battle with Sylvain, Lid, and Grey, who were vastly outnumbered and vastly overwhelmed. 

It looked like the battle would only last a minute, when Cane charged in. 

Elxa left behind, he appeared more like an actual rabid wolf than anything with a shred of humanity. 

He charged in from the side, leaping with rippling muscles beneath his pelt, and crashing into Litti. 

As soon as Litti was on the ground, Cane jumped off, skidding to a stop, claws scraping so that they might spark. 

He bared his teeth, preparing to attack again, but Litti didn’t fight back. 

His head seemed to have hit the pavement too hard, as he lay on the ground, limp, but not dead. 

“Withdraw!” Hollered Rin immediately. Axil quickly scooped up Litti’s limp form before the group began to race in the direction from whence they came. 

Elxa’s group gave chase, with Cane at the head.

Sylvain skidded to a stop as the others charged forwards. 

He locked eyes with Remy. 

“You.” He growled lowly. Addison shrunk down against the roof. “You two aren’t supposed to be here.”

In a burst of speed, Sylvain dashed from sight, and Remy thought he may have fled. 

Before he heard footsteps behind him, and whipped around to face Sylvain on the other side of the flat roof. 

“You abandoned us.” He spoke, taking a step forwards. “You abandoned everyone to be with those, those traitors!”

Sylvain drew a knife from its sheath on his belt. It’s silver point glinted as he tilted it, reflecting a burst of light.  

He charged. 

Before he had even formulated a plan in his head, Remy had sprinted across the roof and leaped onto the building next to it. Looking behind him, he saw that Addison had followed, though the jump left them disoriented and shocked. 

Remy dashed forward again, but skidded to an immediate stop soon after. 

He looked down with dread at the knife pressed against his throat. 

“Run!”

Remy didn’t have time to react as Addison leaped from nowhere, their thin form crashing into Sylvain and knocking him to his back.  

“Run! The skimmer hasn’t left!”

He glanced back, forward, back, and charged onto the next rooftop. 

With heaving lungs and red-tinged pinnas, he returned to the place where the skimmer had arrived. 

His heart sank as he heard the revving of engines. 

But he wasn’t going to give up just yet. 

With the skimmer beginning it’s ascent, he lunged from the rooftop, landing in a roll, and chased after it. 

It was ten feet in the air now. 

Remy leaped. 

He caught the handle to the cargo compartment door with both hands, hanging for a few seconds, before releasing his grip with one hand and slamming the face of his watch against the door. 

It popped open. 

He grabbed on with the hand again and threw one leg up, catching it on the inside of the doorframe. Muscles burning, he used his leg to yank the door closed. 

It shut with a satisfying thud, and he collapsed on the carpeted cargo compartment floor. 

Well, at least he knew Addison was okay. 

At least, he hoped. 


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy and Irene talk about a lost friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Suicide, suicide by falling, death by falling, animal abuse, self-mutilation, animal self-mutilation, and fur farms

Wind whipped at Remy’s hair as he felt the rocks shift beneath his feet. On both sides of him, rock spread for what seemed like miles. His mouth tasted like blood, and his senses were buffeted by the smell of dirt.

This was where Simon had died.

This was where he had tried to talk him down, to get him to walk away from the cliff.

This was where he had failed.

He looked behind him, seeing, far away, blurred by the fog, the bickering forms of Lid and Sylvain.

He looked before him.

He didn’t want to.

Remy could tell that this was a dream, but he could not control his actions in said dream. It felt like watching a movie. He could feel the wind on his skin, the pain from the cold burning at his face, but not move, not or his own violation. 

He expected to see Simon. Afraid and wide-eyed, as he had been on the day of his death.

Remy looked at the cliff.

Mary looked back.

Instead of Simon’s gaunt, thin form and shaggy black hair, standing in front of the cliff, was Mary.

Her face was streaked with blood and muck, and her red hair was blown by the wind like a bushel of wild grass.

Just as Simon had been.

Remy tried to shout. To run towards her, to assure her that she was alright. 

He couldn’t.

He watched as she took a step backwards, foot landing on an unstable rock. It wobbled for a moment, before falling. Mary quickly stepped forwards, meeting Remy’s wide-eyed gaze.

She looked at him, then back at the cliff, then back at him.

Then back at the cliff.

Mary took a deep breath, and then a step back, sending herself over the cliff.

* * *

Remy’s eyes shot open, and he bolted upright in his bed.

Sweat plastered his bangs to his face, and his heart felt to be about to pound out of his chest. He tossed the covers from on top of himself, quickly clambering to his feet. 

Even though he knew it was all a dream, he couldn’t get the image of Mary falling over the cliff out of his head. 

He hadn’t seen her in so long. 

He couldn't imagine the pain she was in. 

To think, he could’ve prevented it from ever happening. If he had just defended her, fought alongside her, she would be here now, sleeping in the dorm opposite. 

He missed her. 

Remy paced back and forth, staring blankly at his watch. With a sigh, he tapped the screen, watching a holographic screen spring forth. 

Three AM. Middle of the night.

He didn’t think he could go to sleep again after that, at least not tonight.

With a sheepish look and a sigh, he sat back down on his bed, going to the contacts window of the hologram and scrolling to the B section. 

He clicked on “Baker, Irene” and pressed the call button. 

It rung for a moment, till it was picked up. 

“R’my?” He heard Irene slur. “Too late. Too late for you to be up.”

“I had a nightmare.” He half-whispered. “Could-could I hang out with you for a bit?”

“About Mary?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, yeah. Meet at The Tip.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

The Tip was always a bit of a mess. That was its nature, after all. 

The Tip was a wing of the building that had been badly damaged in a storm, leaving nothing but the floor. Instead of rebuilding it, however, it was cleaned up and left as a sort of lounge. Remy didn’t understand exactly why, but it was peaceful, so so be it. Of course, that had all happened during fellowship control of the building, and who knew what those crazy bastards were up to. 

He sat there, now, sitting across from Irene at an old circular plastic table someone had dragged out here. The night sky stretched out over his head, stars bright as he had ever seen them now that he was in a rural area rather than the city. 

“You’re really broken up about her, huh?” Irene queried as she absentmindedly swished beer in a plastic cup. Her dress made it obvious that she had woken up only minutes ago, with her hair quickly combed down and her jacket lopsided. 

“I just wish I could’ve helped her.” Remy responded, taking a sip of his beer through a straw. Irene could say what she wanted, but it was less awkward to drink this way. 

“We are helping her.” Irene forced a smile. “We’re helping the war effort.”

“We’re getting nowhere. Grace and Jonesy, they’re getting nowhere.” Remy took a long drink of his beer before laying his chin on his folded arms on the table. 

“Litti’s team chased off a wolf, didn’t they?” Irene chirped. 

Remy sat up, a surprised and concerned look on his countenance. “What do you mean?”

“Cane and Elxa. I was in the garage when you left. You looked stupid, by the way. You know this isn’t spy kids, right? Well, litti isn't very quiet with his discussions.”

Remy looked away. “Addison said Mary freaked out and broke her own arm.”

Irene did the same, looking away, but she seemed almost thoughtful rather than avoidant. 

“Y’know, before I joined the fellowship, I used to volunteer part time with an animal rescue group. They were pretty much animal control for the area. More or less I was just a general caretaker, but sometimes I’d get called in on bigger missions if they needed a lot of people to help out. 

We had to rescue foxes from an illegal fur farm once. The animals were in awful shape. They’d pace their cages, some would bite their own limbs off. It’s as if they knew they were just waiting for their own death.”

“I'm not going to let Mary die.”

Irene hesitated. “And what if she already is?”

“But Addison said-”

“I know what Addison said.” Irene interrupted. She was on the verge of tears, now. “But we don't know what they’ve done to her. We both know her head was fucked up, and that was only after they forced her to use her powers once. What if, what if she's gone, Remy. I don't want to think about it either but, Mary's never going to be the same. Not as when we knew her, and not as before any of this happened.”

Remy seemed about to yell, but quickly calmed himself. 

“She's just a kid, y'know. She didn't want any of this. And it's my fault.”

“Not your fault. Joe's fault.”

“We could've just left her alone.”

“At Halleluland?”

“Yeah.”

“They would've sent others. Others who would have hurt her. This war may as well be a war to save her. Grace can only take preventative measures as to now, but, well, they're pretty much playing chicken with each other. Martine and Grace. Martine doesn't want to talk to the public using Mary’s powers yet, because Grace will interrupt. Grace can't launch an attack on Martine’s base, cause they outnumber us. All we can do is try to break their will to fight until they finally do what they're so afraid to do. Then, we save Mary.”

Remy sighed. 

“If there's a person left to save.”


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie reminisces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General warning for alcoholism, otherwise this one is pretty tame.

Jamie took a long drink from a can of beer, it’s label veiled by the darkness of the room, but it’s taste clear as it burned down her throat.  She placed the empty can on the table, letting out a mumble and putting her forehead on the table. 

“Need to go to sleep?” Parsons offered, smoothing his thumb on the top of an unopened can. His voice wasn’t very slurred, but it was obvious that he was intoxicated, at least to some degree

“Drank too much.” Jamie murmured. 

“Want me to help you to your room?”

“No. Not yet. Like feelin’ like this, feels nice.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” Parsons looked away. “You gotta stop doing this. Gonna hurt yourself.”

“But I’m  _ tiiiiiiired _ .” 

“I know. But it won’t be like this forever. I don’t know how long it’ll be but, someday, we’ll be home.”

* * *

 

Jamie leaned her elbows on the railing surrounding The Tip, staring out into the darkness of space. She held a cup of water in one hand, precariously balancing it on the rounded top of the railing, sloshing the liquid back and forth with the slight movement of her wrist.

“Better than Tennessee, huh?” Nadiya commented, leaning back in a chair a few feet away, drinking wine from a plastic glass. 

“Not as ungodly hot. Louisiana had the ocean to cool us down, Tennessee was in the middle of nowhere and everything was hell. Almost as bad as Arizona.” Jamie chirped in response. 

“You lived in Arizona?”

“Nah. Had some family there.”

Nadiya stood up from her chair, making her way over to the railing and standing beside Jamie. 

“Why did you ever stay there?”

“At Martine's base?”

“Yeah.”

“What's it to you?”

“Drunk Nadiya asks stupid questions, I guess.” She shrugged, accentuating her statement by taking a drink from her glass. 

“Eh. I can relate.” She took a small drink of her water, gulping it down loudly. “Well,” Jamie thought for a moment, “I didn't want to. Would've rather just gone home. I don't have much of one to go back to, 'sides my dad. Fellowship was my home. But, well, when the base collapsed, everyone was confused, and scared and, we just didn't know what to do with ourselves. I ended up with a group of five others, Parsons was the only one I knew well. With the military investigation into the collapse of the Berg, and the FBI involved, we were just scared, more than anything. Ended up getting contacted by Hugh and, that was that.”

Jamie chuckled. 

“As for why I stayed, well, had no choice. We weren't allowed to leave. Especially not since I had powers. They were really strict with those people. Never to leave base without a tracker.

A lot of others had the same reasons. Parsons and Addison were the only ones I really talked to. Addison somehow got their hands on some miniature EMPs, so we could talk without fear of microphones.

Kinda funny. Addison was sent off to R&D a lot for- well, nevermind what for. But they were small and quiet. Wallflower kind of kid. Could do whatever they wanted as long as they stayed silent. Heard a lot of things. Relayed those things to us. 

Not really as cool as it sounds. We weren't the Knights Templar or nothin’, but, it was what it was. Miss em, really.”

“No one really wants to be there, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why not leave? There had to be more that didn’t want to be there than those who did. “

“Fear. Confusion. As I said, we didn’t know what to do. It seemed like they knew what they were doing, at the very least. It was safety and food and a roof over our heads.” She looked back at Nadiya. “Why are you doing this?”

Nadiya shook her head, knocking back the rest of her drink, feeling it burn down her throat. 

“Y'know, I've done, done a lot of shit in my life. I've invented a lot of things. I always wanted to change the world. Like, when I was a kid. I thought the skinthetic was like, my magnum opus, that’s the word, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Skinthetic was my magnum opus. And, well,” she sighed, trying to take a drink of her beer but realizing there was none left. “God, I need more beer. Nevermind. Well, I never thought it would end up like this. I always imagined like, helping people injured in fires and those affected by skin conditions.”

She shook her head. 

“Instead, I started a war. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I don’t know why I don’t just go home, get a job in a lab somewhere. If I’m being honest, I’m trying to make up for it all. Even if it’s not doing much. Even if I’m not Grace or Jonesy. I just want to make up for hurting all those people. 

I’ve never believed in much of a god, Jamie, but, it just seems like the right thing to do.”

“It wasn’t you, y’know. It was Martine.” Jamie shook her head. “She was so dedicated to, taking over America, or whatever. I don’t know what she wanted. Something about her wife. It’s not like the stimplants weren’t already being developed. Hell, they were being developed in the building on which we stand! If you’re blaming yourself for contributing, you may as well blame Ben Franklin for discovering electricity.”

Nadiya chuckled.

“Guess you’re right.” She took the ponytail holder from her hair and began to stretch it between her fingers. “Hey Jamie?”

“Mhm.”

“This ever feel like we’re all in a movie, to you?”

“Nadiya. Nadiya. I can control emotions with my damn mind. Of course it feels like a movie. Seriously. Watch this.”

Nadiya felt a wave of fear crash into her chest, and she felt her knees begin to shake, forcing her to lean against the railing for balance. 

Then, in a moment, it was gone, and she was back to her normal, and slightly intoxicated, self. 

“I’m fully expecting to wake up at any moment and be back in my dorm at the fellowship.”

“Yeah. God, I wish things would go back to normal like that.”

“I know. But it won’t be like this forever. I don’t know how long it’ll be but, someday, we’ll be home.”

* * *

 


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy and Kardala fight a rather aberrant garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for monsters and non-graphic monster death.

“You're really sure you want to do this? It's like, the dumbest idea I've ever had, and I'm the one who decided to put pepperoni in oreos.”

“You  _ what _ .”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time!”

“How was that a good idea?”

“I had pepperoni, and I had Oreos, and I was drunk.”

Irene stifled her laughter in an attempt to keep quiet. 

This time, the both of them found themselves in the back of a skimmer. Despite Remy’s former experience, he was still eager to see the others again. Addison, at the very least. Irene had come along too, half for the reason of wanting to see former friends, and half to protect this agile dumbass.

They grew quiet for a moment, before Remy spoke up. 

“Haven’t seen Kardala in a while, huh?”

“I’ve been trying to keep the body, for the most part. I kind of need to keep my head on my shoulders right now. I’m busy and all.”

Remy hummed in acknowledgment. 

“I don’t know how dangerous this will get. If, if you need to, you can let her have the body. You don’t have to, just-“

“I’m not helpless, Rembrandt!”

“I know, I know, but you’re five feet tall, and it’s a giant wolf!”

Irene shook her head. 

“I promise I’ll let Kardala out if it gets too dangerous, alright?” 

“Thank yo-“

The noise of a tin can being crushed resounded throughout the skimmer, as if they were inside what was being crushed. 

Oh.

They were.

The air-locked door popped open, and the sides of the compartment began to crush inwards. 

The two froze for a moment, before jumping to their feet. Irene was faster to react, and rushed to the now empty doorframe, attempting to gauge the distance to the ground, as jumping seemed like the reasonable option. 

She couldn’t see the distance, however, as, pressing against the doorframe, was what looked to be a giant worm of sorts, with green, leafy flesh. Lining its underside were several curved hooks, their tips coming to a sharp, deadly point. 

“Remy please tell me you brought a weapon.” She spoke hurriedly as she clung to the door, trying desperately to keep her balance as the skimmer rocked and shook like a toy in the hands of a toddler. 

“I, gah, I was gonna bring a boxcutter, but, I forgot.”

Their gazes met for a moment. 

_ Keep him safe, Kardala.  _

**I do not take orders from** **_you_ ** **.**

_ But you will keep him safe. _

**Well, of course! I am a mighty goddess!**

_ No time for that, not now. As the kids say, gg. _

“Finally, I am free from the-”

“Kardala!”

Their reunion was cut off as a thorny vine reached through the open door like an angry serpent. It slammed into Kardala, knocking her to the ground. As it was about to go in for a strike, she scrambled to her feet, tackling the vine to the floor.

“Hold it still!” Remy shouted as he raced forward. He skidded to a stop right in front of the plant, placing his hands on its flesh before letting loose a great blast of energy. 

The decapitated tip of the vine was cut off cleanly, landing on the ground, limp and harmless. The rest of the vine collapsed along with it, curling up on the floor like a dehydrated worm. 

Remy held up his hand for a high-five, and Kardala cocked her head to the side. He considered trying to explain the concept, but was cut off by her voice,

“Little man the beast is back!”

Sure enough, when Remy looked, the formerly dormant vine was back, its tip regrown as if nothing had ever happened.

“Drop!” Remy yelled at it leaned back like a snake preparing to strike. He threw himself to the ground, landing on his side, back pressed against the wall. Kardala has backed up against the wall, chuckling as the snake-like vine shot by. 

With the great snapping and crackling of metal, the giant vine broke through the wall separating the cargo compartment from the cabin. Remy watched in shock as it went through the cabin, into the cockpit, and out the front hull. The seemingly endless vine continued, bursting back in through a cabin window and grabbing onto itself like Velcro. 

The newly formed lasso of greenery suddenly stopped its extending, and, with a great, violent tug, the skimmer was thrown into the ground. 

The wing colliding with the ground went concave like the plastic bubbles on top of the lid of a fast food cup being pushed down.

Remy and Kardala were thrown out the now-ravaged cargo compartment door, the breath being knocked from them both as they landed. Though Kardala landed on her back, Remy landed painfully on his arm, sending a stab of pain and shock to his chest. 

_ God, his leg. He had forgotten about his leg. It was healed, but still couldn’t bear much weight.  _

Even in his shock, he managed to right himself and back handspring away from a vine as it shot out of the ground like the arm of a great titan.

However, as he landed, he collided with another person, quickly losing his balance and landing in a heap of limbs.

“Run! Get out of here!” Litti shouted, flash-stepping away from him. 

Remy scrambled to his feet, just avoiding as a vine slammed in between him and Litti, shaking the ground as it made contact. 

They flash-stepped over the vine as it struggled to get up, appearing beside him. 

Litti was only slightly taller than him, with sharp eyes, a thin face, and white hair hanging just above their ears. In one hand they held what looked like a knife of sorts, hands clenched so tight around it that their knuckles were as white as their hair. A frayed orange bracelet of yarn was tied loosely around their wrist, standing out starkly against their pale skin. 

“Follow me!” They ordered, stepping back a few paces from the rapidly recovering beast. 

As it rose its, well, what appeared to be its head, or at least the front of its body, a roar made Remy’s heart skip a beat. 

“The one-headed hydra is no match for the goddess Kardala!”

The sky cracked open, and a great bolt of lightning shot down, striking the vine directly like a great gunshot from the clouds. 

Immediately, the impact point blackened, spiderwebbing strands of pitch tearing down the green flesh. With a great crash, the titan landed on the ground. 

“Follow me, both of you!” Litti commanded, turning to flee from the fallen beast. Remy and Kardala shared a glance, but quickly followed.

Litti was forced to skid to a stop as yet another vine emerged from the ground, towering over them, clearly about to strike. 

Kardala geared herself to rush forwards, but was beaten to it as the vine was severed at its base. 

Behind the defeated creature stood a young woman with golden dyed hair and a blade protruding from the outside of her arm like a mermaid fin, whom Remy recognized as Rin. Behind her stood Axil, who could control snow and, even without powers, generally kick ass, and Isaac, the hydrokinetic, who was holding his arm strangely as if it had been hurt. 

Letting the blade on her arm dematerialize, Rin stepped forwards towards Litti. 

“We got a plan?”

“Well, the plan I had was kinda destroyed when our skimmer was knocked out of the sky. Let’s go for the freezing tactic. Isaac, when the vine is fully out of the ground, surround it in water, and Axil, you freeze it. Rin and I will-“

“Uh, Litti?” Isaac piped up. “Tagetes is gone.”

“Oh.”

* * *

“What the  _ hell _ were you  _ thinking _ .” Jonesy demanded, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sat at her desk chair, one hand splayed across her keyboard. 

“I-“ Remy stammered. He wasn’t sure what to say. He had acted on impulse, surely, but impulse to do what? 

“You could’ve been hurt, Chris!” She stood up from her chair, approaching him, gesturing with a sweeping arm. “Seriously. You- you, you could’ve died! You could’ve died for  _ no reason _ .”

“I know, but-“

“But  _ what _ .”

“I want to help.”

“Help yourself to the f’ing medical wing?”

“I want to help,” He paced in a circle nervously, “Help Mary, and Addison, and, and, all the others.”

Jonesy unclenched her fist. 

“We’re doing all we can.”

“I’m not.”

Jonesy sighed. 

“I’m, I didn’t mean to yell.” She leaned on her desk. “Your leg is better?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed again, looking away. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tide of war turns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act three is finally winding down! It was not intended to be this long but here we are.  
> No warnings this time around, just me making myself look like a homestuck.

The dark hallway was silent and still, except for one flickering light that would blink like an overexcited firefly every minute or so. Hot air stuck to the corners and walls, a general sense of humidity floating throughout. There was a distinct smell of wet paint, though it spawned from no identifiable source.

The hallway itself was lined with a few doors, metal in nature, some with clear dents at about waist-height. Rust flaked around their corners and knobs, peeling off like old paint.

The dormitory was just that, a dormitory, with rooms for its residents to spend the night. 

One would never expect that the room behind one of the doors of such an innocuous hallway would play host to an event which would change the course of the war forever.

* * *

 

Dagney Collin was a sharp woman, in all senses of the word. 

Her eyes were sharp and grey, titled almost at an angle like those of a feline, caruncle pointing towards the bridge of her nose. Her nose came to a firm point, as did her chin. 

Sharp, of course, needn’t apply only to what the eye can see, and the word would apply to her in such aspects, as well.

Sharpness in mind had led her to where she was now.

Dagney hurriedly tightened the strap of the necklace she wore to the point where it resembled a loose choker, tugging at it a bit to insure the strength of the cord.

The cord was thin and black, clearly not meant to be part of that particular necklace, with a shotily tied knot securing its ends together. It’s pendant was circular, with small writing on it. It resembled a locket, with a hinge on the bottom.

Regardless of how incoculous it appeared, this would be the device to change the fate of the war.

She rolled back the sleeve of her jacket, revealing a white watch with a singular button. She tapped the heat-sensitive button, making a small grey holographic screen appear, showing the most recent of a scroll of messages:

FF: Are you there

FF: Dagney

FF: Dagney

FF: Dagney where are you what happened

DC: I’m here

DC: Sorry about that

DC: Where are you?

FF: Woods

DC: Ok

DC: You brought the glock right

FF: Yeah

DC: Ok good

DC: I’ll be there in a minute

DC: I’ll tap when I need you to rev the engine, yeah?

FF: Ok

FF: Godspeed, Collins

DC: Fuck off, Fisker

DC: You’re not my mom

FF: I am going to turn this plane around I stg

DC: eryfduxh

FF: How do you keyboard smash on a HoloKey??

DC: Skill

FF: You’re gay and I hate you

DC: Yeah I know

Dagney pressed the button again, closing the screen, before hiding it beneath her jacket sleeve once more.

And, with that, she fled.

* * *

Dagney tapped.

She pressed the heat sensitive button twice, quickly sending a notifier to her friend, Feris. A moment later, she could hear the revving of a skimmer’s engine, muffled by the walls.

Shoving the unconscious body of the guard she had just strangled out to the side with her foot, she started out the hallway to the outside.

* * *

“This is such  _ bullshit _ .” Jonesy practically shouted as she paced back and forth in front of the giant screen in her wife’s office. 

“Jonesy-“

“We never should have trusted her!”

“I know-“

“We’re going to lose, and it’s all my fault!”

It was early morning, then, too early for them to be up, even with their disjointed circadian rhythms. Still, when the morning guard to the downstairs exit had gone to relieve their coworker of his post, he was found unconscious from strangulation. 

As security footage showed, it had been almost three in the morning when Dagney had fled and left with an operative under Martine’s command, identified as Feris Fisker. 

“We had no chance before, now that Martine knows the location of our base we really have, literally, no chance at all! We’re all going to die!”

“Jonesy.” Grace coaxed. “Calm down. It’s too early for you to be getting like this.”

“But- “

“No one is going to die, okay?”

Grace made her way to her desk, jerking open the drawer and fishing out a handgun. 

She brandished the weapon at her side like a baton. 

“I think it’s about time we stopped playing chicken.”

 


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya Jones has quite a few regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: General alcohol use, suicidal thoughts, mentions of suicide, mentions of death by heart attack, mentions of death by blood clots, mentions of death by drowning, mentions of violent death.  
> Apologies that this one is so short! We've only got two chapters of Act 3 left before we get to the good stuff!  
> Special thanks to @quinntessentialharley on tumblr for proofreading because god knows my 4 am brain can't spell.

Nadiya had never really been one for alcohol. 

It tasted like ass, and all it even got her was a headache the next day. Besides, she didn’t  _ party _ , she was  _ busy _ . She had things to be doing, papers to be writing. She couldn’t just sit around and ingest poison to ‘loosen up.’

Well, a lot of things had changed in the last half a year. She had superpowers, for christs sake, and was practically pretending to be Jemma Simmons, besides the boyfriend-having-brain-damage part.

And, now, she was at a table with friends, drinking, in the middle of the night, and Rembrandt had somehow acquired alcohol that didn’t taste like piss. As in, hard lemonade. Which sounded more like piss, but tastes less like it. 

Yeah she was too drunk for this shit.

“This bitch empty!” Remy shouted, “Yeet!”

He threw the can he held, which had formerly been full of hard lemonade, at Nadiya, making her duck out of the way so it sailed past and hit the railing surrounding The Tip with a dull, crinkling thud. 

“Rembrandt!” 

“Oops.”

Nadiya leaned back in the plastic picnic chair, rolling her eyes.

In a continuation of the conversation they had been having earlier, she spoke,

“So, let me get this straight, you went directly against orders, nearly got yourself killed, and Jonesy is letting you join Litti’s team?” Nadiya asked in disbelief, thumb smoothing over the smooth aluminum can’s surface.

Nadiya almost envied him.

Not that she envied being in imminent danger, or nearly being crushed to death by a sentient vine.

She would never admit it, but she felt awful about this whole thing. Worry settled firmly in her diaphragm, grasping gently like the teeth of a kitten around a finger. Sharp and piercing, but more of a throbbing ache than a stabbing pain.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah. Aren’t you excited? We’ll finally get to do stuff and, help out, and stuff? I don’t know.”

He and Irene would be do something. Actually help people. Fight this war.

Instead of sitting in a stupid lab all day.

Her stupid lab.

With Jamie.

A person with powers who she was studying in a lab.

“Have fun getting your asses killed.”

“Don’t worry, Nadiya. We’ll be fine.” Irene smiled.

“Mhm.” Remy hummed. “Litti said you can join too, if you want.”

Nadiya considered it.

For what was probably the first time in her life, she considered something Chris suggested.

She would be risking her life, sure, but was that really a bad thing?

There were already those who had lost their lives in this war. Simon, suicide, Lawrence, an old member of Litti’s team, bloodloss, Oliver, drowned after his car’s engine was shot intentionally so it fell into a lake.

There were more. More they didn’t know about. More who had died in Joe’s experiments that had been erased from fellowship records. More that they had marked down as heart attacks or undetected blood clots.

Nadiya Jones wondered how many of those deaths she had helped in.

She was a biomedical engineer, sure, but she still worked for Joe. She analyzed the data she was sent.

It had been a while since she had felt like this. She had tried not to think about it. Tried to focus on her work. That was the priority right now. But, tonight, with her mind fuzzy and her tongue burning with the artificial taste of lemon, the feeling was coming back.

The feeling of guilt.

This was her fault. It was all her fault. If she had just questioned what was going on, if she had done  _ anything  _ rather than sitting by and being a sheep, maybe she could’ve done something about it.

But no. She was too busy in her lab. Too busy with her goddamn “science.”

Science that had killed people. Science that had ripped sanity and safety away from innocent people who had done nothing to deserve what happened to them.

It was all her fault, and here she was, worrying about her own life? What about them? What about-

“Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

Remy smiled. “Have fun getting your ass killed.”

Nadiya rolled her eyes and slid him another can of lemonade. 


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three - Intermission Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The right wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Domestic abuse, emotional abuse, drug addiction, drug influenced violence, mentions of animal experimentation

Martine was alone.

Martine wasn’t used to being alone, and she didn’t particularly like it, but this time, it was necessary. 

She let out a small grunt as she dug her fingers into the edges of the coffee table, dragging it towards her. After a few steps backwards, and a few moments of her fingers digging into the edges of the wood, she was able to relocate the object firmly in front of the door.

It was so  _ annoying  _ when Aarin got like this. 

She could hear clearly the woman’s mumbling from outside the door. She sounded disoriented and confused, repeating herself like a broken record.

“Her and her fucking drugs.” Martine muttered under her breath as she made her way back over to the bed. 

She laid down on her back, absentmindedly fishing through the drawer of the end table until she found her MP3 player, already attached to headphones. 

She let out a small sigh as she fit the headphones over her ears and pressed play, letting the device start with whatever had been playing last.

Despite the music player being relatively new, a 2004 model, less than a year old, even its loudest volume wasn’t loud enough to drown out Aarin’s slurred shouts.

She was awful when she got like this.

She had already attacked Martine earlier. 

Well, attacked was a strong word. It was mostly just shouting, some threats, normal stuff. Martine had gotten fed up and retreated to her room.

So  _ annoying _ .

She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, of course. Aarin was a loving wife, and Martine reciprocated such feelings with zeal. Martine didn’t regret running away to be with her, never for a second.

It was simply annoying.

She could try to sleep, she mused, but then she wouldn’t be able to help her when she came down from her high.

Martine let her head lay flat on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

* * *

“You did  _ what _ !” Richard practically shouted, standing up at his desk, pressing his hands against the surface. 

“I did exactly what our plan said, honey.” Martine smiled, standing across from him, on the other side of the desk. Her countenance was hardly the thing betraying her indisputable jubilant emotion as she smiled like an over-excited golden retriever sticking its head out a car window. “Oh, aren’t you excited! You’ll finally get to see what leadership really feels like!”

Richard walked out from behind his desk, beginning to pace in circles in the center of the ornate office’s rug circular rug. He held his hands behind his back, interlacing his fingers together nervously.

“It’s not the right time! You said it yourself. Joe needs more time. You can’t have told the twins!”

“Of course I did. I told everyone. Everyone who needed to know, anyway. Now if those clowns bring her back successfully, we can finally rule! And, if they don’t, we’ll just have to send security.”

“There’s too many variables! We can’t, I know I’m the dumb one but, it’s too risky.”

“Variables, shmariables. Loosen up, Dick. Don’t you want to rule? It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

“Yeah, I know.” He muttered.

“You don’t care, do you? I do all this for you, Dickie. And you don’t even care. Oh, it’s not good enough is it? You’re a king! How do you ever stand a little measly consort like me? I’m just a woman! What do I know?” She complained.

Richard stopped pacing, turning to face his wife. 

“No, no, it’s not like that! I love you, Martie! You know best, of course. I’m just tired. It’s been stressful, yeah?”

“Of course honey. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. Go get some rest, alright? You’ve got a big day ahead. I’ll take care of things out here.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just don’t let me sleep in.”

“I won’t.”

Martine smiled. This idiot was so  _ gullible.  _ For someone who was supposed to be a king, he sure had no idea how to tell truth from lie.

He had gotten better, though. Even if most of her training was lost on him. He would have to take up some of the responsibility of ruling, after all. She couldn’t run a country without a figurehead!

He would learn, she mused. This was all for his own good.

After all, he loved her.

* * *

“How exactly do you expect us to win this, if you can’t so much as do your job!” Martine snapped, taking a threatening step towards Nyota, a taller woman with short white hair that matched her lab coat, making her person almost look sterile.

“It was the fault of the technology, Ayer.” Nyota hissed, her sky blue eyes narrowing. “Biotechnology may be my area of expertise, but it can never be perfect. It’s as volatile and unstable as the life that supports it!”

“You can keep fucking blabbering.” Martine snarled. “Or you can get back to work, and maybe next time, we won’t look like idiots in front of our opponents!”

“Or you could give me a more reliable method to work with than some twenty-something you abducted off the fucking interstate!”

“What you have at your disposal is what very well may be the most powerful person on this planet. What do you propose? We just make another? If you were on lunch break for it, the Berg is gone! Our stimplant imprinting facility is gone!”

“I propose you give us time. To, to, uh-” Nyota began stumbling over her own words. Martine smirked. She may as well have just asked a neurosurgeon where they should relocate the Yucca Mountain construction project to, but in such a heated argument, there was no way Nyota would back down. It wasn’t in her nature.

It was a weakness.

“Just give us time, We can’t do anything if we don’t have the time to figure it out. What if Sage dies? What then?”

Changing the subject, huh? Another thing the woman was fond of. Silly. It was an easy tactic to counter. Just knock down the new argument in the quickest way possible, and bring her back to a question she can’t answer.

“You’re the Head of Research and Development, aren’t you? If you wanted me to solve all your problems, then why don’t I just take your position? Besides, she won’t  _ die  _ if you do your job and finish this quickly so we can finally get rid of her.”

Drawing her back to an unanswerable question. An easy way to win an argument, even if it had no clear sides to be taken.

“Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”

Martine hadn’t been expecting that.

Nyota had never exactly been one for ethics. She had become renowned in her field of the scientific community after her work with using mammal reproductive stem cells to stimulate the human immune system. She hadn’t had a problem before with using animals for scientific research, why would now be any different? Was it because this research was for a militarily motivated purpose? No, it couldn’t be, she had never disputed that either.

“Oh so what? In science you kill a dog, you kill a dog. Who cares?” Martine raised a lip aggressively, baring her teeth. “Now, get back to work.”

“Yes, Ayer. Of course, Ayer.”

Martine smiled as she left. She was quick to learn, far quicker than that idiot Richard had been. 

Nyota wasn’t entirely wrong. This all  _ was  _ a little cruel. This war had become far too brutal, had cost too much time and stress.

But, it didn’t matter.

What was it Aarin had always said when she had ordered the deaths of those disloyal to her?

Now she remembered.

The Right Wrong.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four - Intermission Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blame Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Alcohol spurred violence, child endangerment, domestic abuse, domestic violence, mentions of starvation, mentions of dehydration, mentions of animal attacks, mentions of sexual activity, and mentions of torture.
> 
> I am highly doubtful this will format correctly at all, and as I'm a dumbass, I won't really be able to fix that

“Shh, shh, hush…” Grace coaxed, holding the infant almost too tightly to her chest. “You’re alright, James, shhh, you’re alright.”

She gently ran her fingers over the boy’s hair, smoothing the strands in a calm, relaxing motion.

She could feel the child’s small body shake as he cried, though she was unable to hear his whines.

Not above the banging outside the locked bedroom door.

Even as she tried to quiet her son, Grace was hardly holding tears back herself.

She looked up from the door, at the window. She had used such a method of escape before. It was only a one story drop, and even if it was the middle of the night, there was a 24 hour grocery store she could stay at until he passed out.

That was before she had James, though. It wasn’t safe to bring such a young child out like that. It was too dark, too dangerous.

Well, it was all of those things here, too.

Grace cringed as she heard the distinctive sound of a fist slamming against the door.

She had hoped to let him tire himself out, if only she could just hide long enough.

It seemed they hadn’t been quite quiet enough.

“Fuck off David!” She shouted, holding James closer to her chest as he began to cry louder. “Go get drunk somewhere else, shithead!”

So  _ annoying _ .

* * *

“Clean it up or something. We have twenty minutes until Dick is done with his damn spiel. Just don’t sedate it or nothin’.” Martine grumbled, an anxious twitch to her expression.

“Are you sure it’s the right time to be doing all this?” Grace responded, countenance like that of a whimpering dog with a gun pointed at its head. Nervous, scared, and more than a little submissive.

Martine didn’t respond to that, instead turning and leaving the small exam room, slamming the door behind her.

Grace muttered something as she left. 

It wasn’t time yet. It would never be time to do something so utterly fucking stupid. For fucks sake, someone needed to tell her and her dumb-wit husband that comic books weren’t real, and even if they were, the villains never win.

As she grumbled, she looked down at the ‘it’ Martine had given her.

‘It’ was a woman with long, frizzy red hair, a face full of orange-skin freckles, and a hell of a lot of wounds.

Grace knew this woman. She was sure she did. She had seen her before, somewhere, though she couldn’t pin down a name.

She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.

What was it Joe had told her, after finally admitting to all the experiments he and his people had performed?

“You’ll go insane with guilt if you think about them as people. Did you ever, like, dissect pig fetuses in high school? You have to think about it like that. Like, it’s already dead.”

Of course, Grace had called him a sick fuck and stormed off, but the words stayed in her mind.

It’s already dead. Just don’t think about it. Just follow orders. Get this over with so you can press a button and hide in your dorm room.

She forced a blank look on her face as she set the woman down on the metal exam table.

God, what the fuck had Joe done here?

Despite her unconsciousness, the woman was still tense, hands balled into fists, lips pursed into a tight line. She looked to be pretending to sleep, though the slow lull of her breathing proved otherwise.

Just follow orders, Grace. You’re alright.

She raised her wrist and tapped the button on her watch, seeing as a white holographic screen sprung forth. 

Oh.

Mary Sage, former diplomatics operative.

Former.

_ Not a person not a person not a person. _

“Took refuge in an abandoned theme park on the coast of Louisiana for six weeks,” The infobox read. “Severely wounded.”

Alright. Alright. Calm down, Grace. You know what to do. Remember all you were taught about handling emergency situations? This is just like that. Just like someone who had been lost for awhile without proper supplies. Or an animal mauling? She had had to deal with that before.

This was just someone who had been lost in the desert for a while and had been attacked by a, a, no, the only predators in the desert were coyotes. This was just someone who had been lost in the mountains for a while and been attacked by a mountain lion. Someone who was too weak to be given anesthetic for fear of them never waking up. Nothing more. 

Grace swallowed the bile rising in her throat and brushed the woman’s hair out of her face.

She had been crying recently, she could tell.

It wasn’t hard to see why.

Joe had already done what he wished, at the very least she could to prepare the kid for the storm ahead.

* * *

Big Mood Fellowship

#general-1

 

Not Joe #5 - 10/17/17 at 3:56 AM   
ok but like   
theres wearable SCPs right   
like   
theres SCPs that can be worn by people   
like the dragon tatto?   
tattoo   
or the stupid fucking llama one

  
Not Joe #3 - 10/17/17 at 3:56 AM   
god that one

  
Not Joe #6 - 10/17/17 at 3:57 AM   
the emperor's new groove one?

  
Not Joe #3 - 10/17/17 at 3:57 AM   
Yeah

  
Not Joe #5 - 10/17/17 at 3:57 AM   
ok so like   
heres what im getting at   
what if an scp   
wore another scp

  
Not Joe #2 - 10/17/17 at 3:58 AM   
then you die

  
Dabbed in 2018 - 10/17/17 at 3:58 AM   
yeah then you die, terris

  
Not Joe #4 - 10/17/17 at 3:59 AM   
thats how age of ultron happened right

  
Not Joe #2 - 10/17/17 at 3:59 AM   
do i look like i have any fucking idea

  
Not Joe #3 - 10/17/17 at 3:59 AM   
Reydhfuxjgyudfgh

  
Not Joe #3 - 10/17/17 at 4:00 AM

wait fuck   
guys   
guys did your fuckin

  
Head of Bepis Department - 10/17/17 at 4:00 AM   
power?

  
Not Joe #4 - 10/17/17 at 4:01 AM   
yeah power went out   
Dabbed In 2018 - 10/17/17 at 4:01 AM   
yeah over here in diplomatics too   
Not Joe #3 - 10/17/17 at 4:01 AM   
youre working late?

  
Dabbed In 2018 - 10/17/17 at 4:01 AM   
Yeah

 

Not Joe #5 - 10/17/17 at 4:02 AM   
I am too   
it went out here in r&d   
anyone from facilities online?

  
Not Joe #4 - 10/17/17 at 4:02 AM   
its not us

  
Not Joe #5 - 10/17/17 at 4:03 AM   
ok uh   
ok   
joe says not to worry   
its nothing

  
Not Joe #3 - 10/17/17 at 4:03 AM   
JOE CONSPIRATOR

  
Head Of Bepis Department - 10/17/17 at 4:03 AM   
JOE CONSPIRATOR

 

Not Joe #4 - 10/17/17 at 4:04 AM   
you know the rules   
you gotta change your nickname now

  
Joe Conspirator - 10/17/17 at 4:05 AM   
ok fine   
i hate you all

  
  


Grace knew she shouldn’t have been looking through old messages like this, especially not at this hour. Still, she couldn’t help herself.

It was so nice back then.

Back when everyone called Joe ‘cursed grease man’ and joked about him infiltrating the group chat.

Back when she had joined in on the jokes. Back when she would address all emails to him as “Dear Greaseman,”

So, here she was, scrolling through messages on her watch, reading over her friend’s keyboard smashes and funny nicknames.

They had blamed facilities for the blackout, as they blamed facilities for literally anything that went wrong, including things unrelated to the fellowship, because it was funny. Just a funny little joke. “Oh, look, Todd Howard, head of Facilities, made my dorm toilet clog. Damn you, Todd Howard!”

They had no idea that the blackout had been the first experiment into the possibility of the broadcast. They had no idea that Addison Solie and Flanagan Mayers were utterly inconsolable afterwards. They had no idea the pain and suffering that had caused that blackout.

They never did.

Grace didn’t, either.

She had been so  _ stupid _ .

How could she have been so blind? How could she have been such a fucking  _ sheep _ .

How could she have gone on a date with Martine the night afterward?

That night they had watched The Office together, and Martine’s joyful emotion was nothing if not genuine.

She had ordered, no, she had  _ participated in _ , the merciless torture of another human being, and she had felt no remorse.

And Grace had loved her. She had dated her, had sex with her, so many times.  _ Countless times _ .

She had dated a fucking psychopath.

She had thought everything was perfect back then.

Guess she could Blame Paradise for her stupidity.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five - Intermission Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beyond The Pale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, jokes regarding animal death, unreality, repetition, mentions of euthanasia, and tasers  
> It's a Mary chapter!  
> Also I think there might be Star Wars spoilers. There's a conversation regarding Kylo Ren with information I got entirely from a friend and the Star Wars wiki. I've never actually seen star wars. So possible spoilers for whatever movie he was in.

 

“Okay, wait, am I doing this right?” Flanagan asked worriedly, countenance a picture of uncertainty.

“Yeah! You got it!” Addison responded enthusiastically.

“You sure?”

“If I wasn’t he’d have bit you by now.”

“It  _ bites _ ?”

“Only if you're a dumbass.” They chuckled.

Flanagan rolled his eyes, stroking a cautious hand across the back of a large Rex rabbit with thick, black and white patched fur and twitching whiskers. 

“And then, Flanagan, you yeet it across the room.” Mary chimed in, looking up from her phone and shoving it in a pocket.

“You absolutely do not,  _ Mary _ .” Addison retorted.

“If you want to yeet it so badly, then why don’t you?” Flanagan quipped, taking the rabbit from where it was huddled against his chest and holding it out to Mary.

“This bitch soft! Yeet!” Mary smiled as she took the rabbit in her arms.

“You guys are going to kill my rabbit, I swear to fuck.”

“Not if it kills us first.”

“Flanagan what the  _ fuck  _ does that even mean.”

* * *

Mary was alone.

She would consider herself a loner, in some senses of the word, at least. She kept to herself, tried to keep relationships with others surface-level.

She didn’t want to get too attached, after all.

But here, in a small, metal room that reeked of bleach, Mary was well and truly alone.

She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. She had put on earbuds and a respirator, seen the movement of nozzles and pipes out of the corners of her eyes and then:

Nothing.

Now, Mary found herself in a pitch black room, devoid of light of any sort. Her attempts to get up had quickly been shot down by a throbbing headache that seemed to press on her temples like a rubber band.

She was sure it was nothing. It had to be nothing. All a bad dream. Maybe she had never even gone into the stimplant imprinting chamber. Maybe she was still in bed right now, covers tossed to the floor.

Still, the paranoid parts of her mind had no shortage of theories of their own.

Maybe this was hell. Maybe you’ve died, and you get to stay here for eternity.

Or maybe the Berg was destroyed and you’re trapped in some room at the bottom of the ocean. Maybe this was your dorm, and you’ve gone blind.

She couldn’t know for sure.

All she knew was that she was cold, she was scared, and she was alone.

* * *

“Kylo Ren is an awful whiny pissbaby, and also I hate him.” Remy said before taking a loud drink of a red, nearly empty slushie.

“Kylo Ren can suck my dick.” Mary responded, leaning against the window as she stared out it, watching fields and pastures zip by in the darkness.

“Reylo is abusive, also. You can’t change my mind on that.”

“Why would I? You’re completely right. I mean like, Rey isn’t straight. Rey is definitely not straight.”

“Well, duh. You’d have to be like, piss-baby-sexual to want to date that guy.”

Mary laughed, “God, yeah.”

She pulled the weighted blanket they had found at a walmart a while back closer to her, draping it over her shoulders so it sat like a cape on her back. It wasn’t exactly warm, though it didn’t matter, as the car they were currently in had working heat. The comfort moreso came in the actual weighted part, helping her stay grounded and all.

It didn’t really do all that much, though. 

It didn’t need to.

Because, for the first time in months, she was fine.

Sitting here, in a dingy stolen Honda, she felt safe.

No one wanted to hurt her. No one was coming to stick a needle in her arm or shock her with a taser.

She was safe.

Though she knew it was completely improbable, there was a small, hopeful part of her that wanted to feel like this forever.

* * *

_ Bip. Bip. Bip. Bip. _

Mary grumbled and rolled over in bed, yanking the thin, translucent bed sheet over herself.

_ Bip. Bip. Bip. Bip. _

She practically growled and took the comically thin pillow from beneath her head, shoving it over her ears.

_ Bip. Bip. Bip. Bip. _

_ Bip. Bip. Bip. Bip. _

_ Bip. BiP. BIP. BIP. _

_ BIP. BIP. BIP. BIP.  _

_ BIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIP _

The pillow was held so tightly over her ears now that it was painful. Stupid fucking heart monitor. Stupid fucking laboratory. Stupid fucking powers. Stupid fucking stimplants. Stupid stupid stupid  _ stupid _ .

She could feel tears beginning to brim in her eyes as yanked the pillow tighter over her ears, even if it hardly helped the noise.

She was tired.

She was so tired.

She just wanted to go home.

Bip bip bip bip-

Mary swore under her breath as the door creaked open. 

Stupid fucking door. Stupid fucking scientists. Stupid fucking life. 

She lifted her head slowly, not bothered or scared.

Why would she be? Being scared would get her nowhere. She was going to be stuck here forever, or until she outlived her usefulness and was put down.

She hoped the latter would happen soon.

Mary knew the drill by now. The metal door would creak open, and some asshole scientist in their stupid lab coat would come and take her to some dumbass exam room or something.

Though, she wasn’t sure she had seen this scientist before, even though her appearance wasn’t necessarily striking.

It was a woman, quite tall, maybe just barely crossing the line of six foot, with darker skin and black, sleek hair tied into a ponytail that went down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a lab coat with a cream undershirt and black leggings, as well as sneakers that clashed with the rest of her professional appearance.

Despite her rather conventional appearance, something about her seemed  _ off  _ to Mary.

Oh, yeah.

She knew this woman.

Nadiya Jones.

She had known her before, hadn’t she? She couldn’t remember. The woman just had an odd sense of familiarity about her, like an old acquaintance you had met at a party for work, or seen in the halls at school.

Not that she was surprised. Even if this woman was a friend, it wouldn’t be the first friend to betray her.

Mary remembered with disdain the insouciant expression her former trio-mates wore the last time she had seen them. When they knew full well what was happening to her.

When they didn’t do anything to help.

Mary shook her head as if physically shaking off the thought. She would have hours to be alone with her thoughts later. Just not now.

She watched nonchalantly as Nadiya said something into an earpiece and took a black cylinder from a holster on her hip. 

With a flick of her wrist, the cylinder extended, a tapering, silver pole leaping from the end.

They couldn’t do anything without threatening her with the taser, could they?

Mary didn’t protest. She took the pillow from her ears, standing up on shaky legs. 

And it was gone.

The scene disappeared around her, and she awoke in another hospital bed, on her back, the feeling of restraints clear on her wrists.

Of course she did.

She had no use outside of experiments and tests, did she? She was a white rat with blue veins. A test subject. Nothing more.

Before she passed out, her mind managed one more coherent thought.

Would she ever again have a use Beyond The Pale white walls of a lab?

 


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six- Intermission Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shake Me (Awake)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Emotional abuse, knives, burn wounds, ear mutilation, unreality, and mentions of necrosis

 

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Richard heard a voice coo amatively, accompanied by a light tap on his hand that awoke him from his slumber. He murmured sleepily, rolling from his back to his side, feeling the couch cushions shift beneath him.

Still, even as he tried to go back to sleep, he found himself unable, and soon hauled himself to a sitting position, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. He raised his watch and spoke blearily,

“HoloKey, check time.” 

“It is currently 6:32 PM.” A robotic, german voice spoke, a beige holographic screen emitting from the device, displaying the time in bold, white lettering, as well as the date and weather conditions.

“You napped for two hours. Was that even comfortable?” 

He immediately recognized the voice of Martine, and realized where he was

He had fallen asleep in his, well, his and Martine’s, office, on the ornate velvet-lined couch pushed against one wall.

“Not really. Guess I was really tired.”

Richard yawned again, stretching his arms above his head and hearing his joints pop.

“What have you been doing, then?”

“Important things, hun.”

“What kind of important things?”

“Boring shit. Writing emails and stuff.”

“That’s all you ever do.” He complained. “Don’t you get bored?”

“No. It’s important.” Martine smiled. “Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it’s boring. But it needs to be done.”

“We should go, like, do somethin’ fun for a change. Get off this iceberg.”

“You know very well you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Richard groaned.

“It’s too dangerous for you to go out!” Martine practically shouted. Richard flinched away, his position tensing.

He didn’t respond to that. Nervously, he opened the screen on his watch and began scrolling through news, not that he necessarily cared, just that he was trying to avoid eye contact.

It had been a stupid question. He shouldn’t have asked. If he left the base, then the whole plan would fall apart.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

* * *

Richard couldn’t breathe.

He could feel tiny, serrated edges of a knife digging into his throat, though he didn’t dare look down, lest the blade grow too near his flesh and tear through.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he feared he would succumb to his panic and pass out.

“Martine, I think we’re done.” He heard a sharp voice speak from behind him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Richard stayed as still as he possibly could, focusing on quieting his tremors as he stared at the scene in front of him.

Martine had a gun to someone’s head, and two people stood next to her, staying back from attacking directly, but clearly prepared to break their positions if anything happened.

What were they doing? They were supposed to be helping!

“You— you really wouldn’t hurt him. He’s an innocent, he’s a-”

“Oh”.

“He’s a good man!”

“I really would.”

“She super would, trust- trust me on this one.”

“I super duper would.”

He coveted to yell out for them to stop. This fight needed to stop  _ now _ , before anyone got hurt. Martine may have been insistent, but just this once, he needed to stand up against her wishes.

Just this once.

And he had a knife to his throat.

Richard’s cowardice won out over his will, and he stayed quiet. 

* * *

“Was this always your Plan B?” Richard asked. His voice was quiet as he stood leaning against the cold, metal wall, staring at the carpet.

“What?” Martine responded, tone uninterested as she slid her finger over the touchpad of a laptop.

“Blaming me for all of this.” He raised his chin defiantly, turning his gaze to the woman sitting at the desk.

“I improvised, hun.”

“Don’t call me that!” Richard wasn’t exactly sure what had gotten into him, but he took a threatening, well, at least he tried to make it threatening, step forwards, shouting, “You can stop with your stupid pet names an-”

He collapsed.

He had completely forgotten.

After he had been burned severely by Martine’s eye beams, the blood vessels in his right ear had been destroyed, and the ear fell off after being affected by severe necrosis. 

Not only had his hearing been affected, but his balance too, leaving him unable to stand for long without use of a crutch of some sort. 

He felt nausea ripple in his throat as he hauled himself to his hands and knees. 

And Martine laughed.

Richard gave up, collapsing to the floor again.

This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. 

He repeated the sentence over and over to himself. This was a dream. It was the only thought keeping him going.

This was a dream, and, more than anything, he longed for someone to shake him awake so he could be back with his cape and crown.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven - Intermission Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witness Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Alcoholism, drowning, death, implied gore

 

“Oh my god.”

“He’s dead.”

The room was silent for a moment, the people in it collectively holding their breath, stiff with shock.

“He’s not dead! He’s not dead!”

The room exploded in shouts as a small, red spaceship shot out of a swirling, purple wormhole on the TV screen their eyes were locked on.

Cheers erupted from the five people huddled together on the couch clearly only meant to seat three.

Jamie Young’s face was split with a grin that spread from ear to ear. She raised the plastic, rounded glass she held, letting out a whoop of glee. A splatter of champagne was tossed from the cup, splattering onto Liam, the person sitting next to her's, hair. They shook their head, liquid flying everywhere as they laughed.

The two looked back at the screen, watching the science fiction show intently.

Two women on the backs of massive, horse-sized, albino does decorated in smooth armor were shown charging across a devastated landscape, dodging landmines as they sprung up in clouds of dust. 

The two yanked on the reins, and their mounts skidded to a stop, their front hooves just barely missing the edge of a massive, narrow ravine. They shared a knowing look, and the camera panned to the other side of the ravine, where two more people on deer stood.

The groups shouted a command to each other, and the armor on the sides of the deer opened to reveal thin cannons. In sync, the two groups backed away from the edges of the ravine.

Balls of blue light bubbled at the canon muzzles before releasing giant blasts of energy into the ground where they had just stood. The edges of the ravine cracked, before caving in, forming a giant pile of rubble.

It showed a close up of one woman's face, hardened with determination, before it cut to a wide shot of her mount jumping onto the rubble, climbing down like a rescue dog.

Then, it cut to an downward panning shot of a alien looking animal standing at the bottom of the ravine, growling.

The woman took a gun from a holster on her hip and aimed it at the creature.

From the edge of the frame, another woman on a deer dove in, her mount panting.

“Don’t shoot!” She yelled, and the screen went black, credits beginning to roll.

Again, the room erupted into shouts this time of, “Cliffhanger!”

After a few moments of outraged yells, the five friends devolved into laughter.

They never got to watch the next season together, however, as everyone but Jamie had attempted to escape on a malfunctioning skimmer.

* * *

“You got assigned to do  _ what _ .” Jamie spoke, tone instantly changing from chipper to perturbed.

“It’s not, it’s not what it sounds like. Not really.” Parsons responded abashedly, taking a drawn out drink from a can of beer.

“Planning to  _ abduct someone  _ is not what it sounds like? Really?”

“It’s really not as bad as it sounds. Besides it’s, it’s, uh, well, it’s an assignment, Jamie. I can’t not do it. It’s of the highest importance.”

Jamie pinched the bridge of her nose.

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s really stressful, Jamie!” He practically slammed the can down on the table. “There is  _ nothing _ . There are no leads! They just went, oh hey find this person, you have two months, good luck! I have a  _ name  _ and a  _ file _ . That is _ it _ . All her relatives are fucking  _ dead _ or we just flat out don’t know their names. Apparently her and her parents were fucking  _ disowned _ . I have nothing, Jamie! Nothing but two months to sit around my office and worry.” Parsons practically  _ screamed _ .

Jamie immediately felt guilty. They really shouldn’t have been so harsh on him.

Without a split second of hesitation or thought, she spoke:

“Tell whoever gave you this assignment that this is a group project now.”

“You’re-”

“I’m helping.”

* * *

Jamie let a hiss of pain escape her lips as she instinctively righted the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

She looked down at the wound on her arm, cringing at the sight.

It wasn’t exactly her fault though. She didn’t expect a rock to fly at her arm at high fucking speeds. She hadn’t expected for it to cause such a detrimental wound either.

She raised the bottle and chugged what was left of it, the burn in her throat acting as a brief distraction from the throbbing pain in the rest of her body.

God, what the fuck was she doing?

Working for an insane fucking tyrant in an underground base. She had  _ superpowers _ for fucks sake. 

If only her friends could witness her now.

Then again, maybe death was a better fate than this. After all, she didn’t know what the afterlife was like.

Whatever it was, there probably weren’t random flying rocks.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight- Intermission Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Is As All Should Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied domestic abuse, otherwise this one is pretty tame.  
> I didn't read this over cause I'm gay and tired so I apologize for any errors  
> The whole chapter doesn't make sense anyways so it dosen't matter all too much

Addison had learned about the black and white cars with colorful blinking lights in school, but even with all they had been taught, they could not remember the name.

Mom had always said they didn’t need to know everything, though. After all, they were only six. They weren’t an adult. It was the adults who were supposed to know things.

Regardless, they had no idea why one of the weird cars was in front of the house. 

It wasn’t supposed to be there. Only mom’s car was supposed to be here. Mom’s car was blue. This car wasn’t blue. 

This was scary. Addison didn’t like scary things.

Mom  _ had  _ been acting weird. She had told Addison to stay in their room and turn the thingie on the doorknob they weren’t supposed to touch.

The door wouldn’t open now, no matter if they turned the doorknob or not.

Addison may have been scared, but they were brave! They would find out what was going on.

So, here they found themself, staring out the window that faced the driveway, watching Mom and the man who had come out of the funny car talking.

They weren’t entirely sure what a ‘domestic abuse’ or a ‘divorce’ or a ‘restraining order’ was, but they sounded like big adult words. Maybe their dad would know.

Where was he, anyway? He seemed mad earlier.

* * *

“I can’t believe she left me, Flanagan.”

Flanagan was used to his father getting like this. It seemed like every Friday he would get really sad and start talking like this. Flanagan didn’t like it very much, but he was used to it. He was sure every 8 year old’s parents did this.

“She left  _ us _ . Me and you. Oh, what am I going to do? I can’t do this for much longer.”

“Do what, dad?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Flanagan. Do you remember what happened to your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister, dad.”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. No, you don’t. You don’t have a sister. God, I don’t want to have to put you into the system too. I’m a shitty father, Flanagan. Shitty, shitty, shitty.”

“You’re a great dad.” Flanagan spoke as he shoved a chicken nugget in his mouth. “Even if you are a little silly sometimes.”

* * *

Addison wasn’t sure what to expect when they got placed in their second group home.

Five years of being passed around from aunt to uncle-in-law to grandma to cousin and back again hadn’t exactly prepared them for what a boys group home was like.

They had survived two months there before being shipped off to a different one due to ‘not getting along with the other children.’

It wasn’t their fault all the other kids were loud, rowdy assholes. And older than them. They  _ were  _ only thirteen, after all.

What they didn’t expect was to break about five different rules on their first night.

“You want to  _ sneak out _ ?” 

“That’s what I said, sis.” Their roommate, Flanagan Mayers, a boy their age with short, black hair, spoke. He shook his head like a wet dog shaking water from its fur, hair shaking in every direction.

“I am not your  _ sis _ .”

“I’m not cis either, sis.”

Addison laughed at that. “Yeah, me neither,  _ sis _ .”

“Ok but, yeah, we’re sneaking out. Or, I’m sneaking out. Whether you come with me or not is your choice.”

“Isn’t that like,  _ very  _ against the rules?”

“Who cares? There’s some cover band playing at a park only two miles from here. May as well get to know the area.”

“They’ll see us, Flanagan.”

Flanagan gestured towards the large window in the wall.

“You with me?”

Addison sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose.

“I’m with you.”

* * *

Addison missed Flanagan.

“You good in there?” They spoke softly, rolling their wrist back and knocking on the door to Flanagan’s room.

He seemed to have been getting worse and worse.

After they had first gotten their powers, he had seemed,  _ off _ . Aggressive, irritable. Tired, all the time. It just wasn’t like him.

It wasn’t their Flanagan.

It  _ wasn’t  _ Flanagan.

It seemed like the real Flanagan was gone. Just like what happened to Mary.

They didn’t feel entirely like themselves, either.

Addison was no longer in control. It felt like their body was on autopilot, and they were watching on a screen.

Sometimes it felt like virtual reality. They could pick something up, but they weren’t  _ really  _ holding it. It was an illusion.

This was all just an illusion, and they were ready for it to be over so they could go home.

Awful a thought as it was, they were almost glad Flanagan had ended up how he did.

At least he was safe.

At least he was grounded.

At least he felt  _ real _ .

They were both safe, in some sense. Onyx and Conduit were just as needed as Space Cadet.

Regardless of what they wanted, they would be protected. No matter how aggressive Flanagan was, no matter how quiet Addison was, they would be protected.

They didn’t want to think about what would happen if Flanagan turned out like Mary Sage.

Even with his hostility, they didn’t want to imagine him glassy-eyed, sedated and chained to a hospital bed.

No one deserved that.

“Fuck off.” Came a strained voice from inside the room.

Something was definitely wrong. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.

They took the small, decorative spoon they kept with them from their pocket, digging the end into the lock, which, luckily for them, didn’t use a key, and pushed down on the handle.

The room was dark as they walked in and closed the door behind them. 

“Flanagan, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck  _ off _ .”

Clearly, nothing was as anything should be.

It didn’t seem like it ever would be again.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene acts suspicious. Nadiya just wants to go back to bed.

The first odd thing about that morning was that Irene awoke before Nadiya.

The second odd thing was that the whole base was beeping.

Nadiya crawled from under the fleece covers, her hand nearly slipping between the bars of the railing of the top bunk as she did so. Her vision was fuzzy from grogginess, and she found her movements slow, sluggish.

The room was black as pitch, the only light emitting from the blue-lettered digital clock embedded into the wall.

3:23 AM, it read.

Welp, she had gotten up for nothing.

Nadiya stretched her arms above her head before dropping back on the mattress. She could certainly use a few more hours of sleep.

She hadn’t been sleeping well recently.

What did it matter? Why should she deserve to sleep-

“Nadiya. Get up.”

Nadiya had thought it the whisper of an approaching dream at first, but upon realizing she had not yet fallen to the wisps of half-sleep, she recognized the voice as Irene’s, though it was nearly drowned out by the incessant beeping.

“We don’t have much time. Follow me.”

She tossed the covers from herself once more, leaning over the railing extending from the bedframe.

“‘Rene?” She mumbled out, still blinking sleep from her eyes.

“Yes, yes,  _ come on _ .”

Nadiya looked back at the clock before slowly ascending the ladder to the thinly-carpeted floor. The darkness made her eyelids droop and her movements clumsy, her body still not have fully awoken yet.

“Follow me, and be quiet. We can’t let them hear us.”

Nadiya shook her head, only worsening her already bad case of bedhead. Her mind finally seemed to crawl from it’s slumber, but before she could ask what the hell was going on, she was following Irene out of the dorm and through the hallways of the residential wing.

The whole base was arranged in a circular formation, with the main hallway for each floor being a large ring, off of which would branch the four wings for that floor. In the center was the elevator shaft, with four elevators, and a staircase in the middle, which had four hallways leading to it. It was possible to get to from one side of a ring to the other through these halls, but it usually ended in a mess, as the halls were only wide enough to fit one person. Therefor, most people opted to just go around the ring, to avoid an awkward confrontation.

Irene seemed to be in quite the hurry, as she not only went through the shortcut, but she  _ ran _ .

Nadiya hardly managed to keep up, which was a surprise in and of itself, as Irene hardly ever went faster than a walk, and if she did she was panting in a minute or two.

Whatever she was going towards was so important she had broken out in a sprint.

The two tore through the halls, past the stairwell, and to the other side of the second floor ring.

To the offices.

She diverted her path sharply, away from the normal entrance to the office wing, and to a side entrance that consisted only of a wooden door, meant to be used in the event of a severe electrical failure.

Irene skidded to a stop, digging her feet into the thin carpet, stopping just before the door.

“We can’t let them hear us.” She repeated before turning the handle.

“Who?”

Irene didn’t respond. Silently, she led Nadiya through the hallways of offices, before stopping before the door to the largest one.

Grace’s.

“Irene th-”

“ _ Shush _ .”

Nadiya almost flinched at Irene’s almost violent tone. She obeyed, staying silent.

Irene approached the door to the office, signaling for Nadiya to stay back. She pressed her back against the wall, turning her chin upwards.

* * *

“If you’re going to keep doing this, Martine, you need to find a better method than doing this at three in the morning.” 

Grace’s voice was clear, clearly annoyed, at that. Despite, there was an underlying tone of stress and uncertainty.

“Well, don’t hang up just yet-”

“You know very well that’s literally impossible.”

“As I was  _ saying _ , yes, you’re right, this is a bad method of communication.”

“Great! So glad you called to tell me this. Now shut up and leave.”

“Grace, you offend me. You don’t want to talk to your friend.”

“ _ Martine _ .”

“Fine, fine. Let’s get to the point, shall we? Look. We’ve been fighting so much. I think we really need to just  _ talk _ .”

“And we’re doing that right now, aren’t we?”

“Well, you certainly don’t like when I contact you this way. I’m inviting you to just  _ talk _ , maybe we can work all this out, and no one else will have to be hurt. Neutral ground, no guards, just talking.”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. Well, I’ve sent further instructions, bet you forgot we could do that, huh? Maybe we can finally end this petty thing.”


	40. Chapter Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya saves her laptop. Irene takes command. Addison misses their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for medical restraints and mentions of guns and bombs

“Mary. Get up. You’ve been sleeping for two days.”

Mary mumbled something under her breath before vocalizing, “I've been asleep for a lot longer than that, Addison.”

There was an utterly miserable air about the redhead. Of course, Addison couldn't blame her. Even with her sedation receded and will diminished, she was still far from free, in any sense. A white, fabric vest was tightened around her chest, tied to the bed-rails in more of a warning than a restraint. 

A warning that seemed to have worked, as she hadn't gotten out of bed, even after waking up. 

“Then you've had plenty of rest,” They chirped briskly, shaking Mary’s shoulder again. “Please?”

Mary whined a bit before hauling herself to a sitting position. Her hair hung limply like the ears of a sad dog.

“What do you want? It’s late.”

“Just to talk, I guess.”

“Flanagan freaked out again?”

“Yeah.” They replied somberly. 

Flanagan may have been the most noticeable in that sense, but Mary, Mary had changed too.

They didn’t know if it was the stimplants or not, but everything about her just seemed so, apathetic. Her hair had grown long and matted, curls clumping together into a thick knot. Her eyes were dull, glassy, their vivid brown now muted and lifeless.

“He’ll be fine.” Mary murmured. She definitely didn’t sound like she meant it. Then again, everything she said sounded disingenuous.

Addison missed Mary and Flanagan.

* * *

Sometimes, silence was scarier than danger.

Well, that might not be the best wording for it. Sometimes, silence is scarier than being in danger. Though that’s not quite right either.

Silence is scariest when you know there’s something coming.

Yes. That was it.

For three days, Nadiya had felt an odd anxiety grip at her chest. The feeling that she was in a place she wasn’t supposed to be. 

The feeling that something was about to happen.

Since she and Irene had overheard Grace and Martine’s conversation, anxiety had been settled in her diaphragm, refusing to withdraw its claws.

She had assumed she was overreacting. She had struggled with anxiety before.

When the concussion bomb went off, she realized that was as far from the truth as possible.

Nadiya had been in the hallway at the time, carrying her laptop back to her lab.

It felt like the sound of thunder had morphed into a physical force, the bang coursing through her chest and down her legs. She was knocked to the ground, eyes watering and ears popping as if she were on a plane.

Though the noise was muffled, she could hear clearly as the windows in the ring shattered, glass spraying onto the carpet. 

Her body was paralyzed in shock for a moment, but when she regained some control over her limbs, she curled around the laptop under her.

If she couldn’t save herself, she could at least save her data.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.

Nadiya felt like she had crawled out of a vacuum chamber. There was a distinct pressure behind her eyes and in her throat, nauseating and disorienting her.

After a few moments, she regained full control of her limbs and hauled herself to her hands and knees, raising her head.

It looked like a tornado had swept through the ring and, well, that wasn’t all too far from what actually happened.

Though the walls were undamaged, sans a dent or two, the windows were completely destroyed, glass splattered across the floor. A large indent was slammed into the only elevator door visible to her, no doubt rendering the device unusable.

Nadiya raised her aching arm to eye level, speaking:

“Watch, call Chris Rembrandt and Irene Baker.”

The first ring didn’t even get time to complete, as the call was picked up almost immediately. The watch’s holographic screen appeared, displaying the faces of Remy and Irene.

Remy wore a look of concern, but Irene’s face was twisted in, determination?

Her camera feed changed from her face to a blurry scene in front of her.

It was hard to make out, but there were clearly four people, along with one dog, having some form of verbal argument.

“You two, get to my location, right now. Keep low. Come in by way of engineering. Pinging location now.”

The call was cut off, and the two images on screen were replaced by a map of the first floor of the base, marked by a red dot representing the position of Irene’s watch.

Nadiya didn’t hesitate. She quickly grabbed her laptop and hurried to the hallway leading to the stairs, not wanting to risk using a damaged elevator, where she placed the device on the floor before making her way quietly down the stairs.

Following Irene’s instructions, she went the way of the Engineering department to get to the Internal and External Affairs wing. 

Irene stood at the end of the hallway, peering out the doorway. She moved aside to let Nadiya through just as she heard Remy coming down the stairs.

Seeing Martine in the flesh made Nadiya’s heart skip a beat.

* * *

Grace had a lot of regrets.

Most of them didn’t come back to haunt her. For the most part, they just sat there, digging away at her subconscious as she tried and failed to ignore them.

Three days ago she had refused Martine’s request for a “meeting.”

It seemed Martine had gotten what she wanted.

Grace stood in the middle of the hallway, gun at her side. 

Jonesy was out on a scouting mission.

Grace was alone.

Across from her stood Martine, cocky in the flesh as she was over the communicator. Flanking her were Lid and Sylvane, the latter of which was desperately clinging to the chain leash of a drooling german shepherd outfitted in a facsimile of a fellowship vest modified to fit a quadruped.

“I’ll come to your fucking meeting, alright?”


	41. Chapter Forty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya thinks about action movies. Grace needs a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is completely non-proofread and I wrote half of it while a sizable group of eight year olds was trying to get me to play smash with them in a dimly lit basement.

Grace was a pacifist. 

It was difficult to get her to break her serene exterior. You could threaten her with a knife and she would ask if you wanted a mint. She had worked for the damn organization for 6 years, and no one had ever heard her cuss. 

To Nadiya’s knowledge, Martine had been the first to tear a hole in Grace’s facade.

Now, that piercing claw was tearing through the skin, ripping it to pieces. She had sunk her teeth in, and was determined to rip out the throat.

The Grace they had all known at the fellowship was gone, now. Her air of serenity and, well, grace, was replaced by that of exhaustion and stoicity. She stumbled like a college student that hadn’t slept in weeks. 

Jonesy, well, Jonesy was doing her best. 

Grace was always the easygoing one. She would be the one playing the pacifist route in Undertale without even realizing there were different routes. She was the one to drag Jonesy away from a late night project so she would sleep.

Jonesy had been trying her best to keep her wife’s spirits up. She would trot alongside the taller woman in the hallway, trying to make conversation every time Grace emerged from her office to collect something from another room.

After Grace had snapped at her, Jonesy began to keep her distance.

With all this culminating, there was certainly some, concern, regarding the meeting.

Martine’s claws were already dug into Grace’s chest. It seemed she was just waiting for the right time to make the killing blow.

Trust in Grace was waning rapidly. 

The meeting would put their leader into an incredibly vulnerable situation, and without her, they’d be lost. 

After all, unlike her wife, Grace didn’t have powers.

Martine had demanded Grace bring at the most three guards. Said demand had left the whole base fidgety. Even Litti, Rin, and Axil, the chosen guards, were nervous. They knew well enough about this point not to trust Martine. Everyone did. What was to say the meeting wasn’t a trap?

Well, as Nadiya always said before doing something stupid and dangerous, there was only one way to find out.

* * *

Nadiya felt like she was going to fall at any moment.

The catwalk overlooking the abandoned warehouse was in disrepair, several sections having fallen off the wall entirely, while others were rusted and thin, far too thin to hold much weight.

Despite, Nadiya, Remy, and Irene had managed to find a section of catwalk that was both shrouded in shadow and stable enough to support them.

The warehouse had been cleaned up, at least somewhat, before the meeting was to take place. Fallen machinery had been swept out, as had rocks and rubble. All that remained was a metal table in the center, with five chairs on each side.

It reminded Nadiya of a stereotypical interrogation scene in an action movie. The whole place was dimly lit, with a light rigged up above the table, illuminating a circle around it.

The trio had scrambled onto the transport for the guards, and, somehow, through divine mercy, dumb luck, or something in between, they had gone unnoticed, and procured a spot to watch what was supposed to be a private meeting go down.

Grace had arrived first, Jonesy at her side. They looked tired, but on edge, hands brushing together ike they wanted to hold hands, but couldn’t.

They seated themselves at the table, Litti, Rin, and Axil trailing close behind. Even at a distance, Nadiya could see the frayed blue bracelet Litti wore around his wrist, signifying that the genderfluid person was male-presenting today.

The guards sat down as well, unholstering their weapons and fiddling with them. 

Martine arrived only a few minutes later, with, for the most part, the same group that had attacked them at their home base. Sylvane, Lid, and Grey looked more bored than anything, twirling their weapons in their hands like school children playing with their pencils.

The four of them looked confident, though that couldn’t be said about the fifth member of their party.

Richard Poer looked utterly miserable.

Nadiya hadn’t heard anything about the so-called King of America since the broadcast. With the injuries he had sustained, she had just assumed he was dead. It had never crossed her mind that he could still be alive, and still be a part of this whole mess.

His confident demeanor had been smothered by an overbearing aura of weakness. Walking seemed to pain him, and looked quite difficult. 

He walked alongside a large, young doberman with a thick, shiny pelt tightly laid atop lean muscles. The dog wore a nigh-facsimile of a red service dog vest, except for the text that would usually read “service dog” was replaced with a pink twenty-four questions logo.

The dog was in a completely different condition than its handler. 

Richard looked completely different from when Nadiya last saw him, almost four months ago. He was gaunt and thin, skin pulled tightly against his flesh. His eyes were sunken and dull, and his hair was thinning, in complete contrast to the thick blonde it had been less than half a year ago. 

The most prominent change of appearance, however, was his ear. Or, rather his lack of one.

Richard’s left ear was completely gone, in its place no more than a hole in the side of his head, making him look like some sort of owl. His hair was shaved around the wound, though it was unclear whether this was for medical reasons or ignominy.

The group seated themselves at the other side of the table, with Richard and Sylvane on the ends. Both of their dogs laid down, likely exhausted from the jet ride.

Nadiya’s heart skipped a beat when Remy shifted position next to her. She hadn’t realized before now just how risky this was.

If this was a trap, she could have just led her only two friends in this whole world to their deaths.

Well, if they did die, at least dying in a firefight in an abandoned warehouse would be metal as fuck.

“You came.” Martine practically purred, a smirk painted clearly on her face.

“Oh, fuck off. As if I had much choice. Skip the pleasantries, get on with it.” Grace snarled in response. Jonesy looked up at her worriedly. This was far from the ideal start to this interaction.

“Alright, alright. Feisty, are we?” Despite her words, Martine clearly had no intention of backing off.

“You are going to tell me why you called me here  _ right now _ , I swear to fuck.”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I-”

“I’m not surrendering. Any fucking coup you try  _ will _ be met with violent force.”

“I know you won’t surrender. I think we’ve come to an agreement on that. And I’m not going to fight you on it. You’re persistent, I admire that in a girl.”

“Oh my fucking g-”

“ _ So _ , I’m not going to be asking you to surrender. I’m asking for a truce. Or, a compromise, really. We all signed up for this with the same intention, Gracie. To do good. But we can’t do that if we’re so busy fighting each other. I don’t want to fight. None of us do.” Martine was oddly stiff as she spoke, as if speaking on a well practiced script, “So, I propose we share the leadership. If we work together we can fix the mess  _ he _ ,” She glanced accusatorily at Richard, who ducked as if she were about to hit him, “created.”

“You’re asking for  _ joint leadership _ ?”

“Now you’re getting it!”

Grace looked deep in thought for a moment before she replied,

“Fine.”


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya mains Protos. Grace hasn't played Starcraft in years.

“What do you think’s gonna happen when we leave?”

“Nothing good.”

“I don't even want to think about it.”

Remy took another gulp of his Mountain Dew, slamming the can back down on the table as he finished. 

The three had already made their final decision hours prior. With the clear change in political landscape, with Grace  _ working _ with  _ Martine,  _ it would've been far too risky to stay. 

Besides, Remy was worried sick about his brother, Nadiya had to return to her father, and her normal line of work, and Irene needed to return to her mothers and assure them she was still alive. 

Despite how they had sniped and fought when they first met, their goodbyes had been genuine and sorrowful, rather than chivalrous. 

Now, they found themselves doing what any group of nerds would do as a last activity with friends. 

A StarCraft free for all. 

“You're playing Protos  _ again _ , Nadiya?”

“It's the most powerful race in the game.”

“Yeah, if you're smart.”

“And I am.”

“Yeah. Fair enough. I'm gonna Zerg Rush your pylons though. Early game, flat out.”

“Irene's gonna win anyway.”

“Irene always wins.”

“Cause I'm playing Terran like a normal human being, Chris.”

“Terran is lame!”

“Well I get battleships and you don't.”

“Fu- oh, games starting!”

The three sat spread out across Remy’s office, with Remy at his desk, Nadiya sitting in the corner, and Irene sitting against the opposite wall. 

The room was humid, stuffy, and the swirling fan in the corner hardly did anything more than simply blow hot air around the confined space. 

It was getting late, as was made apparent by the dim purple of the sky as it shifted from evening to dusk shining outside the clouded up window behind the desk. 

“Already, Chris? You couldn't have waited until I set up defenses?” Nadiya sniped, though her gaze did not waver from the computer screen. 

“It's called a Zerg rush for a reason.”

“Then go attack Irene or something!”

“Absolutely not get wrec-”

A blast of cold air hit the trio like a wave of cold water splashing onto shore as the door creaked open. 

“Yknow, rushing before you can enhance your Zerglings with the Pool is pretty useless. You're just wasting larvae.”

The voice was higher, feminine, with an undertone of taut worry shrouded by a thin show of confidence. 

Grace. 

Immediately, all three looked up at the newcomer, ignoring the game they had formerly been glued to.

It was Grace all right. She looked different, though. 

Better. 

Though her appearance had hardly changed, her hair still messy, sweater still ruffled, it looked as if color had spontaneously returned to her irises. She was leaning against the wall, one foot pressed flat against the door she had closed behind her. 

“What do you want?” Remy spoke flatly. It was out of tone for him, sure, but he had every right to be pissed off at her right now. For  _ giving up.  _ Could they not just play a Starcraft game or two together before they split off to go their own separate ways? 

“What, I can't just give you gaming advice?”

“We don't need your help.”

“Well, there's what I was expecting.” The corners of Grace's mouth upturned just slightly in a sorrowful expression complemented by the tilt of her eyebrows. "Look-”

“ _ Explain _ .”

Irene’s voice was sharp, almost like a growl, but snappier. The tone in which she spoke mimicked the sound of a snapping branch. 

Grace drew back a bit, lips pursing into a thin line. She ran her tongue over her front teeth a few times, as if trying to coax words into coming out. 

Eventually, she walked closer, kneeling down on the floor as if she were talking to a child. She placed her hands on her knees, sighed, and looked directly at Irene. 

“I promise, everything will be revealed to everyone come tomorrow. But, for now, I need you three to do something.” Grace swallowed. She looked far more nervous than Irene had seen her in a while. “You don't have to, but, I think you would be the best people for the job.”

Nadiya and Remy shared a concerned glance, before looking back at Irene. This was her fight. 

Irene stood up, practically seething with rage.

“What is it?” She snarled. 

Grace sighed again, standing up as well and looking directly at Irene, eyebrows titled sympathetically. 

“I need you to rescue Mary Sage.”


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy plays with firearms. Nadiya has an emotion. Irene presses a button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for firearms and explosives

 

“I hate this. I really  _ really _ hate this.”

Remy smoothed his index finger over the circular piece of plastic surrounding the trigger of the handgun he held upside-down as he spoke. He averted eye contact, choosing instead to stare at the weapon.

“We’ll be in and out, twenty minutes.” Jamie assured him, “Don’t be such a wuss.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Jamie.” Irene retorted. “I think we’re all scared.”

The four, Remy, Jamie, Irene, and Nadiya, stood atop the highest point of a hilly, midwestern landscape, in the shade of a tiny grove consisting only of three or four ashwoods. A mix of green and yellow plants brushed at their legs and sides, the tallest reaching up to their shoulders.

“Were we really the most competent people for this mission?” Remy whined.

“Well, no.” Jamie muttered. “But Grace seemed to think so, so here we are. And stop playing with that thing. You’re gonna shoot yourself.”

“As if I’m not gonna get shot anyways.”

“Didn’t Jonesy say the place was almost entirely abandoned?” Irene muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

“That was her hope. She did shut off the security system, though. Somehow. Kenny probably did it, actually.”

“Great.” Nadiya suddenly spoke up. “Let’s  _ go _ .”

“Are you sur-”

Remy didn’t get to finish speaking as Nadiya cocked her gun and began down the hill, not so much as bothering to push the plants aside, though they did drastically shorten in height as the altitude decreased.

Jamie and Irene shared a glance before following her, towards Martine’s base.

* * *

“Stand back.”

Nadiya’s voice was harsh and stern, sounding as she had during the days of the Fellowship. 

The others did as she commanded, stepping away from the wall Nadiya stood in front of. She watched as they did so, and, when she was satisfied, looked back to the imposing concrete structure, kneeling down in front of it.

She looked at the block of slightly off-white clay-like material she held, gulped, and kneaded it with her hands for a moment before pressing the C4 explosive between the concrete and the ground.

The emotion filling her chest was, difficult to describe. She was excited, of course. She was finally helping. Finally  _ doing something _ . 

Finally starting to make up for everything she did.

But she was so fucking  _ scared _ . Scared of what would be beyond that wall. Scared of death. Scared of being shot to pieces.

Scared of what condition Mary would be in.

If she was even alive.

Nadiya stood up and walked to the rest of the group, roughly handing Irene the detonator remote.

Jamie cocked her handgun. Remy placed his arm over his eyes. 

Irene pressed the button.

* * *

Remy felt his breathing stop as an ear-shattering boom rung through the air. Like the bass of a song played through a subwoofer, he could  _ feel  _ the noise in his chest, resounding and echoing.

After what felt like an hour of waiting, he lowered his arm from his face, watching as the dust settled.

The blast had torn a rough-edged hole in the skin of the building, revealing the room behind the straight-hewn wall.

A gust of cold, sterile air shot out, wafting the smell of bleach into his nose. His reflexes on a hair-trigger, he raised his gun, cocking it in fear of what might lay on the other side of the wall.

Nothing.

The room was small, white, with metal shelves and freezers lining the walls. Said freezers had transparent fronts, in the same way a vending machine would, revealing bottles of liquid with intricate labels on the outside, deeming them different kinds of medication, though Remy had no idea what any of said medications were for.

“Stay together. We don’t need to lose anyone else.” Nadiya ordered, taking the lead as she walked into the room, gun held nervously in both hands.

The others followed without protest, watching as she roughly yanked open the door, slamming it into the wall and probably leaving a dent.

The door opened into a hallway that looked far too wide, with five doors on one side, and three on the other. At the end was a large steel double-door, locked with a metal bar across its width.

“Well, this is the R&D department alright.” Jamie explained warily.

“It looks like, fucking, Island Of Doctor Moreau in here. Jesus christ.” Remy responded.

“Who cares what if fucking looks like. Let’s find Mary and get out of here.” Nadiya practically growled. “Irene, come with me. Remy and Jamie, search the doors on the right. We’ll search the doors on the lef-”

She was cut off as one of the doors on the left side was shoved open, and a familiar figure stepped out.

Addison looked like a ghost.

Their skin was unhealthily pale, making them almost look like a mannequin. Their white-dyed hair was buzz-cut close to their scalp, revealing the roots of their dark hair. Though they looked quite disheveled, and rather miserable, their expression immediately changed to one of joy upon seeing them.

Nadiya immediately rose her gun, aiming it directly at Addison’s chest.

“You are going to lead us to Mary  _ right fucking now _ , or I swear to whatever god is up there I will pump you full of  _ lead _ .”

They met Nadiya’s gaze, not a shred of fear showing in their eyes.

“In that case,” They backed up, pressing their back against the door so that it opened wider as they did so, “Come on in.”


	44. Chapter Forty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy pretends to be a secret agent. Addison yells, multiple times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Suicide mentions, suicidal intentions, injuries, and IVs

 

Remy wasn’t entirely sure what he expected when he followed Addison into that room.

He always tried to imagine the best case scenario in any given situation. He was the optimist of the group. He had to keep their hopes up, lest they fall to apathy. Or something like that

He had fallen into that trap more than once in his time.

So, when he had been informed that Mary was still alive, he had, well, he had hoped. Or he had tried to. In that situation it was difficult to be positive.

He was only glad that Mary was alive. Well, at least, he hoped she was. 

She sure didn’t look that way.

“Hey Rem.”

Mary’s voice was weak, slurred, almost like she was drunk, which was only amplified by the dopey grin she wore. More than anything, it didn’t sound like Mary. 

However, her tone was more than explained by her appearance.

He wouldn't be surprised if she told him she had just crawled out of the grave. 

Mary was sitting on a hospital bed, leaning up against the wall, arms folded across her chest nonchalantly. 

Despite her relaxed position, she was in, well, to put it in scientific terms, fucking awful condition.

She was dressed in light green hospital clothes, consisting of a short sleeved shirt and pants, as well as a small chain necklace that was just big enough to fit around her neck, with an odd rhombus-shaped pendant hanging from it. 

Her skin was, pale.  _ Too  _ pale. Her veins stuck out like those of a lab rat, blue against white. Not to mention the several expansive, blue bruises covering her arms and legs. 

It was as if color had been drained from her hair. The hair that had defined the threatening look of a disheveled woman on a hilltop, blue energy flickering around her hands, was destroyed; matted, bearing the clear scars of several failed attempts at grooming that had been given up on halfway through. 

The most sickening part, however, was the tubes. 

Tubes ran into her nostrils and arms, with a singular tube feeding into the corner of her mouth. It reminded him of a dramaticized hospital scene from an action movie, where the only indication that the hero or sidekick or whoever was alive being the slow beeping of a heart monitor. 

“Your girlfriend’s here.” Addison teased as they entered the room, closing the door behind the group.

“Not my girlfriend, Addie.” Mary croaked in response, righting herself so she was sitting up straighter.

“Not yet.”

“All depends on if I survive this, I guess.”

The way she spoke about everything that was happening was almost terrifying. 

If everything went according to plan, well, Martine’s plan, Mary could very well die in a matter of hours.

Of course, Remy, and the others, had been, relieved, to say the least, when Grace had explained everything to them.

She hadn’t exactly had a thought out plan, but she knew what she had to do. Martine was simply too aggressive to keep defending against forever. The game of chicken had been won. There was no more hope in fucking around in the trenches.

So, she had conceded.

Done what stupid tactical move Martine had wanted. Grace’s plan had quite literally been to cooperate until she had found a way to retaliate.

And that’s exactly what she had found.

Martine had the tactical skill equivalent to that of Richard. As Grace had said, “her solution to literally everything is to yell at people until things go her way.”

Either that or she was playing dumb, which was equally plausible with her track record.

Still, that had seemed to be her strategy with the first broadcast.

And it would be her strategy with this second broadcast too. 

It had been Grace’s chance to at least buy more time. That was his mission. That was his, Nadiya’s, Jamie’s, and Irene’s mission.

Mary, Addison, and Flanagan, alongside a few undisclosed injured, were the only ones remaining at base. It was a peace agreement more than anything. The broadcast would take place in practically the middle of nowhere, and, to prevent, as Grace said, “shenanigans,” both bases were to be left abandoned.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped Kenny from changing records to show that Jamie was dead, and Nadiya, Remy, and Irene had all run away.

So, here they were, buying more time.

After all, Mary was the conduit for the broadcast. Rescuing her meant stopping the whole thing in its tracks.

And it meant bringing her home.

“You’ll live.” Jamie spoke up. She was hanging back by the door, gun still held in both hands, though it was unclear if she was concerned about those in the room or those outside it. Her lips were pursed in a tight line, and she spoke as if on a script. “It’s called a rescue mission for a reason, and I’m not one to fail a mission.”

The way she spoke, not only the tone, but the dialect too, the stress held within it, it reminded Remy of the way she had spoken when they had first met her, all that time ago, at the mixer.

They really had come full circle, hadn’t they? Rescuing Mary from Martine, from a broadcast, no less.

He didn’t want to think about that right now.

For now, he just wanted to talk to Mary again, and hope to god it wouldn’t be the last time.

“Jamie’s right.” Remy resisted the urge to run up to Mary and make sure she was alright. 

He had to focus on the mission. There would be plenty of time for tearful reunions later. “We need to get you out of here.”

Mary adjusted her necklace, or, well, slid the position of the chain, each link sliding over her skin, probably leaving a mark. 

“Sorry Rem, but I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Well, he had expected apathy, but not a desire to stay in her current predicament. He had expected the exact fucking opposite.

“We’re here to rescue you?” He offered uncertainty.

“Well, I’m sorry for messing up your plans, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re going to die if you stay here. I can guarantee that.” Nadiya suddenly spoke up.

“Well, that sucks doesn't it?” Mary smiled. Actually  _ smiled _ . “And I’ll die if I don’t stay here. I leave, this stupid war continues, yeah? So I’m staying right where I am. Sorry.”

“Uh, Addison?” Irene’s voice sounded just as concerned as Remy felt.

Addison shrugged helplessly from the chair they sat in. “We’ve already talked about this. It’s probably best if you guys go home. Safer for everyone.”

“Suicide is safer for no one.” Nadya retorted. “You’re being stupid. The plane is outside. Get up. I can carry you if needed, but we are  _ leaving _ . Before anyone gets hurt. Before anyone gets  _ more  _ hurt.”

“No. Leave.”

Flanagan was the one to speak this time. His voice was oddly monotone, uncaring. It sounded as if a guard dog had learned to talk.

“We aren’t  _ going  _ anywhere.” Nadiya practically shouted, her voice echoing around the small confines of the metal room.

“ _ Nadiya _ !” Flanagan screamed in response, standing up, raising his upper lip and revealing his teeth. “Go  _ away _ ! Leave leave leave leave leave!”

“Oh shut the  _ fuck  _ up.” Addison snapped. “Idiot.”

“You do  _ not  _ talk to me like that,  _ Addie _ .”

“And you don’t fucking call me that!”

Addison shot up from their seat, sidestepping so they were in front of Flanagan.

“I’ll talk to you however I want  _ bitch _ .” He smirked, shooting his arms out and twisting in a way that he pinned Addison against the wall by their shoulders.

As if they had practiced it countless times, Addison grabbed his wrists, forcing him away and freeing themself before using their leverage to throw him to the ground. Like Remy had seen in action movies, they placed their foot on his chest, right where the two halves of the ribcage met.

“Talk to me when the real Flanagan is back.” Addison spat.

And, with that, they stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

Remy and Irene shared a glance before Irene piped up,

“We’ve gotta go after them, don’t we?”

Nadiya sighed.

“Yep.”


	45. Chapter Forty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy holds his own. Nadiya takes initiative. Kardala participates in chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this fic had been one wild ride. Here we go for the final loop!  
> Chapter warnings: Blood, gunshot wounds, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, violence against animals, panic attacks and domestic violence.

 

BANG.

Click.

BANG.

Click.

BANG.

Click.

Jonesy was torn from her trance when a hand touched her shoulder, nails digging in just harshly enough to make tiny pinpricks send a shiver down her arm. She lowered her gun from where she had held it steadily for target practice, looking to her side.

“Need something?” She murmured as she de-cocked her weapon.

Grace’s eye met her wife’s gaze.

For once, she wasn’t smiling.

“I certainly don’t need you getting better at firearms. I think you’ve maxed out that skill.”

Jonesy returned her gun to its holster, turning away from the shooting range she had set up so she was fully facing her wife.

“Just trying to calm down.”

“Maybe, guns, isn’t the best idea right now, hun.”

“Best way I have.”

“I guess. Well, we need to get going.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re scared.”

“Well, of course I’m scared! T-”

“Do you trust them?”

“Well, yes, of course I trust the-”

“Then there’s no reason to be scared.”

* * *

As soon as the group frantically piled into the car, it was made abundantly clear that Addison Solie had no idea how to drive.

The vehicle, a large thing that looked almost like a black pickup truck, except for the bed being covered by the roof, creating an odd sort of storage space, currently found itself on a straightaway that appeared to be a miniature runway. Said straightaway led onto a large swath of grass before opening up onto a gravel road.

Addison studied the dashboard critically for a moment before pressing their thumb against the top of the gear stick. Mechanisms hummed for a moment before green lines scanned over the top of their nail, back and forth, until they were satisfied. Once they retreated, the glowing ceased, and the vehicle whirred to life.

Immediately, they yanked the gear stick to drive, and slammed their foot on the pedal.

The car lurched forward, screaming down the straightaway. It wobbled back and forth, and every time they tried to straighten the course, they overshot, only sending the car further into its back-and-forth teeter as it sped.

“Uh.” Irene was the first to speak up. Addison hardly seemed to notice the three remaining members of the group, as they had left Jamie to watch Mary. Or, to be more accurate, they clearly noticed, but didn’t give one singular shit. “Addison? Where are we going?”

They didn’t respond for a moment, instead focusing on trying to force the gas pedal even further down. When they finally did say something, they sounded more pissed off than Nadiya had ever heard them.

“If you want to get out, then do it.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“To the broadcast.” The vehicle bounced onto the gravel road, veering sharply as it turned to be on the road rather than driving over it. “I have a rebellion to lead.”

* * *

As soon as the group frantically piled into the car, it was made abundantly clear that Addison Solie had no idea how to drive.

The vehicle, a large thing that looked almost like a black pickup truck, except for the bed being covered by the roof, creating an odd sort of storage space, currently found itself on a straightaway that appeared to be a miniature runway. Said straightaway led onto a large swath of grass before opening up onto a gravel road.

Addison studied the dashboard critically for a moment before pressing their thumb against the top of the gear stick. Mechanisms hummed for a moment before green lines scanned over the top of their nail, back and forth, until they were satisfied. Once they retreated, the glowing ceased, and the vehicle whirred to life.

Immediately, they yanked the gear stick to drive, and slammed their foot on the pedal.

The car lurched forward, screaming down the straightaway. It wobbled back and forth, and every time they tried to straighten the course, they overshot, only sending the car further into its back-and-forth teeter as it sped.

“Uh.” Irene was the first to speak up. Addison hardly seemed to notice the three remaining members of the group, as they had left Jamie to watch Mary. Or, to be more accurate, they clearly noticed, but didn’t give one singular shit. “Addison? Where are we going?”

They didn’t respond for a moment, instead focusing on trying to force the gas pedal even further down. When they finally did say something, they sounded more pissed off than Nadiya had ever heard them.

“If you want to get out, then do it.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“To the broadcast.” The vehicle bounced onto the gravel road, veering sharply as it turned to be on the road rather than driving over it. “I have a rebellion to lead.”

  


Time felt fluid in that car.

It reminded Nadiya of the time spent travelling during her youth. Her family never really went on any sort of vacations, but she remembered, less than fondly, the lengthy car trips from house to house, sitting for ten hours in a cramped car stuffed with the contents of their last residence.

On those trips there was always a distinct emotion of, longing, almost. Longing, anxiety, and loneliness, all rolled into one always feeling that settled in her chest. She had always known full well that she would never see her last home again. Roadside diners and gas station food couldn’t distract from that.

It was the feeling of leaving your life behind.

It was how she felt now.

After what could have been ten minutes, or an hour, or far longer, Remy queried, “What happened back there?”

“Didn’t want to hit the squirrel.”

“Not that. I mean, with Flanagan.”

Their grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Do you remember December 14th?”

Of course they did. Everyone did. The day of the broadcast was a pretty damn hard thing to forget.

“Of course I do.”

They sighed.

“On December 4th several events transpired regarding the organization formerly known as the Do Good Fellowship. Though this is widely known, recent discoveries have provided intel that could point towards three unnamed employees of the organization having been the direct cause of the nationwide scare that very same day.” They recited. It sounded familiar. Nadiya thought she might’ve read that news article before. “Parsons wasn’t lying about Mary. But Flanagan, his paranoia turned, outward. Towards me.

He’s not my responsibility. I was done with his shit.

Also, we’re about to crash.”

Nadiya didn’t have time to react as the car went up on its front wheels before slamming back down onto the ground. The windshield shattered under the force of branches stabbing into it, sending shards and splinters backwards. The front of the hood went completely concave, the tree they had rammed into pushing the car far more than the car had pushed it.

“Addison _what the fuck_?” Nadiya piped up for the first time in the ride, the crash shaking her from her dissociative state.

“I know how to start a car. Never said I knew how to stop one.” They explained nonchalantly as they climbed out of the front seat. They wrestled a gun from the car door before slamming it, approaching the trio as they clambered from the vehicle.

Keeping their calm demeanor, they raised their gun in their general direction.

“Alright, uh, drop your weapons.”

“Addiso-”

“ _Drop them_.”

Remy and Irene did as commanded, letting their guns drop to the grass with a dull thud. Nadiya was slightly more hesitant, but as soon as she saw how serious Addison was, she too disarmed herself.

“Good. Now get out of here.” They turned, beginning to make their way off into an area of bushes.”Unless you’re in the mood for a fight, that is.”

* * *

When Grace had said the middle of nowhere, she really meant it.

Addison had stopped, or, well, crashed, in a clearing bordered on either side by trees, with the grass thick with yellow grass that brushed up against Nadiya’s ankles as she half-heartedly waded through it. She raised her watch to eye level, tapping it a few times before the screen finally appeared.

As necessitated by their furtivity, the watches had been mostly disabled, except for a map that was supposed to lead them back to base, had they gotten lost.

Luckily, it wasn’t limited to a specific geography. Or, if it was, the location she found herself currently was in said geography.

Satellite imagery placed her in an odd scar in the landscape of northwestern tennessee, about in the center of the area between interstates 70 and 220. A spot was marked about half a mile away, across a swath of trees.

The spot of the broadcast.

Where Addison had gone.

The trio stood in stunned silence for a moment before Nadiya snapped,

“ _Well what was the fucking point then!_ ”

She kicked the gun she had dropped, sending it flying a pathetic few inches.

Nadiya hated everything. She hated herself for going on this stupid venture. She hated that she had followed Remy into it. She hated that Irene hadn’t protested. She hated that Addison had led them into it. She hated that Grace had sent her on the mission in the first place. She hated that this whole thing had happened in the first place. She hated it. She hated it so much.

It was too much. Everything was too much.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to her lab. She wanted her mom.

She wanted Mary.

Nadiya collapsed.

She landed on her hands and knees, rolling onto her side and curling into the fetal position. Her clothes weighed against her skin, not painful, but there, and so, so clearly there. She could hear voices, but she wished she couldn’t, as the slightest sounds felt like nails on a chalkboard to her ears.

Time seemed to blur as she gasped for breath. She might have been crying. She couldn't tell.

Nadiya was only vaguely aware of her surroundings, but she could tell that Irene had just knelt down next to her. It was comforting, in a way.

Time both dragged on and sped past. Slowly, far too slowly, she felt herself regaining control and vision of the world around her.

“Nadiya?” Irene spoke gently, coaxing her back to reality.

Nadiya hauled herself to her hands and knees, panting for a moment, before stumbling to her feet. She was still shaky, but quicking gaining confidence in her existence.

Irene offered a hand, which Nadiya took, reluctantly, though once she did she held to it like a lifeline.

“Let’s go home, okay?” The shorter woman cooed. “I’m sure Jamie can handle this. She’s more than capable.”

Under normal circumstances, the chance to go home and take a nap instead of being out fighting whoever would be enticing. But now, she had not an ounce of longing to return to respite.

Guilt and sorrow had evaporated from her chest in a flame she hadn’t even noticed was burning.

As it seemed, the antidote to despair was action.

Nadiya dropped Irene’s hand, asking in a way that made it so it was impossible to tell if she was being sarcastic or not,

“What was it Addison said again?”

“ _We have to go hom_ -”  
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m sure as hell in the mood for a fight.”

* * *

Remy’s thoughts of history repeating itself returned to him as soon as he followed Nadiya from that swath of greenery.

Remy saw a ferris wheel.

The fairground was clearly unused, but far from abandoned, with some rides already being set up for the approaching summer season. Patches of grass were yellow and crumbling, while others were lush and green, like the land itself was transitioning to a time in which it would once again be in use.

The kiddie rides looked all too familiar.

He was sure the rest of his team felt the same way.

“Really should’ve taken the guns, huh?” He commented half-heartedly, looking up at Nadiya. He didn’t expect a smile, and he sure as hell didn’t get one.

“We won’t need them. If we are to believe Addison, if there is a fight, the aggressors will be on our side.” She responded, stopping suddenly at the edge of the treeline. “Stay behind me. Don’t stray like idiots.”

Irene glanced up at Remy, looking more and more concerned as time went by. She wasn’t meant for this kind of thing. Remy was an athlete, an olympic one, at that. He could hold his own in a fight, powers or not. Irene was a tiny lady from HR. If this broke into a fight, she stood no chance.

With bile suddenly rising in his throat, he remembered blood draining from her chest after Cane had slashed it.

He swallowed it back down as Nadiya began to lead the way out into the fairgrounds.

Though it couldn’t be seen from their vantage point in the woods, the area was far from devoid of other people.

A shoddily cobbled stage, likely used during the on season for concerts of local bands and performances by elementary school dance teams, served as the epicenter of activity. People were sitting about like kids on a field trip to the park, talking in hushed tones.

Two faces stood out to him among the crowd.

Grace was standing behind a podium on the stage, messing with papers on the wooden platform while speaking nervously with Jonesy. Grace looked better than she had in ages, dressed in a light blue suit, with her hair tied up.

This was all a show.

This was all this whole stupid war was about. It was a show.

“Nadiya? I think we need to go back.” Irene chirped, her voice strained with worry.

“Sorry guys.” Nadiya spoke, holding one hand out as if she were holding a knife in it. “But this show isn’t going to go on.”

Remy and Irene shared a nervous glance.

Nadiya morphed her arm into a sword and walked off into the field.

* * *

Nadiya was never one to fail.

Whether it was homework from her tutors or a report for her latest experiment, she was not going to fail at it. She couldn’t fail at anything. And she never did.

This rescue mission was no different.

It was supposed to be simple. Go in, get Mary, go back to base, drink some rum n’ coke.

It didn’t work out that way.

That didn’t mean Nadiya was going to fail.

Nadiya kept her breathing level and her posture straight, sword arm hidden beneath her sleeve, and slowly, far too slowly, made her way to the side of the stage.

What was it her dad had always said? Look like you belong there and you do? Something like that.

Well, it worked in university, and in the middle of a mission too. After all, there was no better hiding place than in plain sight.

As she made it to the back of the stage, she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, looking up at the structure connected to the wooden platform, covered in chipped paint.

She cringed as she turned her hand to a dagger and climbed up the short flight of stairs leading into the hallway that led from the outside to backstage.

Nadiya’s gaze met two blazing yellow eyes, and, with a sudden, terrifying realization, knew that this had just turned from a rescue mission to a fight.

* * *

“Irene?”

“Go if that’s what you want, kiddo. But I’m staying here. Stay safe out there.”

“Thank you. I will.”

The interaction was oddly stilted, Remy noticed. Though it seemed casual enough, he knew her well enough to know that that was how she talked in a formal setting.

Irene was scared.

Of course, he was too. He was fucking _terrified_. The gun had given him a sense of security, the same way carrying a gas station pocket knife around the city at night did.

That was gone now. As was any shred of confidence he had managed to procure.

Still, he had a job to do. He needed to inform Grace about what had happened. Or, what was about to happen, if Addison hadn’t been bullshitting.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Remy began to walk towards the stage, praying to god no one pointed out his presence.

As he was about to greet the two women, a great crash sounded throughout the fairground.

* * *

Maximillion, Sylvane’s german shepherd, met Nadiya’s gaze as she entered the dark hallway.

The beast’s white teeth glinted in the scarce sunlight, its mouth open and salivating as it strained on its chain leash, lunging forwards on its hind legs.

It’s belligerent expression mirrored that of its handler.

Sylvane’s grey hair was wetted down, slicked back and shaped around his ears. His blue eyes glinted, as did the two knives in his hands, as he leaned against the wall.

“Afternoon.” He chirped like a middle schooler trying to reenact a gangster movie.

“Afternoon, Sylvane.” She responded, humoring his attempt.

“Y’know, this is really getting annoying.” He unfolded his arms, flicking his knife in Nadiya’s direction. As he did so, he dropped the end of the dog’s chain leash, commanding:

“Max, sic her.”

Before Nadiya got a chance to retort, the dog ran forwards, saliva dripping from its maw. It’s tail was wagging as it ran towards her, preparing to leap-

A resounding crash sounded throughout the hallway as the wall Sylvane was leaning against disintegrated into a pile of drywall and rubble.

Grey fur flashed in Nadiya’s line of sight, and the dog was snapped out of the air with a panicked yelp.

When the dust from the destroyed wall cleared, Nadiya saw Addison riding a wolf.

The German Shepherd was hanging from Cane’s jaws, weakly thrashing about as sharp teeth dug into its flesh.

Cane’s eyes blazed with determination, his tail sticking straight out and wagging back and forth, just slightly. His prosthetic right front leg had been attached tightly, straps of the harness pulled taut on his body.

Addison was seated on his back, just behind his shoulders, their hands gripping his grey, bristly fur.

As the dog began to bark in pain, Cane dropped it, sending it fleeing, tail between its legs.

Despite their victory, Addison’s face was grim, seeming almost sharper than it had before.

They didn’t say anything, instead gently pulling at the fur in their hand, prompting the wolf to turn and head back down the hall.

* * *

Sylvane burst through the curtain separating backstage from the stage, nearly tripping over the thick fabric in his panic. His usual confident exterior had been shattered, leaving behind wide, terrified eyes and tightly clenched teeth.

Only a second after, the curtain was torn from its shoddily crafted rings, unveiling the oversized canine form of Cane, with Addison seated on his back.

Cane howled, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

Irene could feel anxiety swell in her chest as the field exploded into a cloud of steam.

She was given no time to react, and, even if she was, she would have no idea _how_ to react.

In a span of about twenty seconds, a wolf had chased Sylvane onto the stage, followed almost immediately by a torrent of water crashing down from the sky which, somehow, lit on fire, creating a smokeshield around the whole field.

When the happenings processed in her mind, it wasn’t Irene who reacted.

* * *

Remy felt coughs wrack his body as hot steam blasted his face, his skin feeling like it was pressed against hot concrete.

He stood in stunned silence for a moment, not entirely sure what to do, but a hand on his arm quickly snapped him out of his trance.

He turned to see Grace, her face somehow even paler than usual, hair sticking up in the smothering humidity.

“Get Nadiya and get out of here.” She spoke, voice quivering, hardly opening her mouth to speak.

Remy felt himself compelled to oblige. It was what he was going to do anyways. This wasn’t his fight, it was Addison’s.

He glanced back out over the field.

The steam had cleared for the most part, though some stuck to the damp grass, revealing the yellow swath in its entirety, drowned in afternoon light.

Litti’s group had split up, with Axil and Issac retreating to the woods whileTian, Ila, Rin, and Litti himself were hiding out by the airplane-themed kiddie ride on the outskirts of the field.

Pulse and Lup had charged in from the forest and were locked in a tussle with Lid and Grey.

Lup, a red wolf with a prosthetic front right leg held on by an elaborate harness in the same way Cane did, lunged at Grey, overshooting their jump and grabbing a clump of his hair instead of what they were aiming for. Instead of releasing, they used the leverage to pull him to the ground as they flipped mid-air, landing on their back like some intricate wrestling move.

Meanwhile, Pulse, practically Lup’s twin except for the grey fur adorning his pelt, charged for Lid’s leg, grabbing it, but suffering an opportunity attack as Lid slashed their flank. The wolf let out a sharp bark, but refused to flee, instead rearing on their hind legs and shoving Lid to the ground.

The four tussled for a moment more before Lup managed to get their jaws around Grey’s arm, crunching down till blood coated their lips and dripped down their maw.

Torn between pain, panic, and shock, Grey fled, as did Lid.

Pulse and Lup stood panting, their breathing heavy, but not labored. For a moment, as he stood there, watching blood drip from Pulse’s lips, Remy almost forgot they were shapeshifters, not real wolves.

He began to turn his gaze to the center of the field, but his attention was immediately yanked back at the sound of a familiar, if muffled, voice:

“This puppy is no match for the might of Kardala!”

Kardala, seemingly have appeared out of nowhere, yanked Lup into the air by their tail,

slamming them into the grass like Hulk attacking Loki. Grey clouds began to gather above as thunder crackled, preparing to strike righteous fury below.

Remy stopped.

This was Addison’s fight, not his. There were three groups here.

Who was on who’s side?

Which side was he on?

Not Martine’s, of course. Addison seemed to be wanting to do good here, but was he really with them? They were causing chaos. Pain and blood and _chaos_.

“Bring her back to us, please.”

Though Remy had only read those words in an email, he could imagine Addison saying them. He could hear their voice as they spoke them, clear as day in his head.

Addison was causing chaos, but maybe a little chaos could do a lot of good.

If anything, Addison was Mary’s friend.

Remy didn’t have to think about it any more.

* * *

“Little man!”

Remy gasped for breath as he ran to Kardala after making his treacherous way across the field, though, noticeably, at least to him, his exhaustion was far less than that he had felt after flipping and flitting around the original broadcast, despite this being a similar amount of movement.

As she spoke, Lup scrambled to their feet, running between Kardala’s legs. Before they got a chance to escape, however, lightning crackled from above, striking just in front of their forepaws and sending them tumbling backwards.

“ _Kardala_!”

Remy’s shout broke his former silence, stopping the goddess dead in her tracks.

“Don’t hurt them. They’re a friend. But they,” He gestured to Lid and Grey, who were viciously harassing Litti, “they aren’t.”

* * *

Nadiya was caught between a rock and a hard place.

To her right, a solid wall, and to her left, a door to a room she knew very well was currently inhabited by Martine and Richard. Going back in the hallway she currently stood in would only result in dredging through rubble and possibly being seen from the outside, while going forward meant pushing through a heavy curtain, and god knows what could be behind that.

She was really, truly, stuck.

So, she stayed. She stayed where she found herself, a fettered prisoner of her own anxieties. She felt like a cat at the vet, hiding in the corner, unsure of whether she was too scared or not scared enough to run.

Whatever the threshold was holding her back was immediately broken as she heard a gun cock from the next room.

That noise was all it took to send Nadiya darting through the heavy purple curtain blocking her from the outside.

She wasn’t quite sure if she regretted it or not.

A cacophony of chaos crackled around her. Gunshots and shouts littered the air, making her nearly shut down just from the very noise.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as she looked out over the field.

Remy was dancing in a puddle of blood.

The grass he stood on had changed from yellow to red, soaked in scarlet of unbeknownst origin.

The latino man gasped for breath as he elbowed the female, whose name eluded Nadiya’s memory, attempting to slash his lower back with a knife. Before he was able to fully fend off her attack, another woman attacked him from the front, hitting him just below his arm with some sort of electrified baton. He fell to the ground, but some sort of foolish determination sent him scrambling back to his feet, entering back into a fight he could never win.

Nadiya wasn’t thinking as her arm turned into a fierce blade and she rushed into the field to save her friend.

* * *

Remy coughed a splatter of blood onto the concrete floor, chest heaving and arms shivering. Pain stabbed at his side from where he had been hit with the tip of a blade, emanating like ripples of stagnant water.

“Remy.”

The whisper was harsh, sharp, but with a worried undertone.

He immediately recognized it as Nadiya.

After coughing once more, he responded weakly, “Yeah?”

“Oh, thank christ you’re awake. I thought I was gonna have to carry your sorry ass out of here.”

Remy sat up, looking around the room in which he sat. Well, it wasn’t as much of a room as it was a hallway, with the outside at one end, and a pile of rubble on the other.

“Did I pass out?”

“Well _duh_. I saved your ass.”

He coughed again, staggering to his feet, using the wall as support.

“No, sit back down. You’re hur-”

A gun cocked in the next room, and the two fell silent.

Remy dropped back down to the floor. “Where are we?”

“Hiding. It's, the safest place. Right now. But,” She drawled her last word, “Be quiet. I think we can just wait this out.”

“Where’s Kardala?”

“Still out there.”

“Then I need to go out there and help her!”

“No, you don’t. You’re hurt. Kardala will be fine on her own. Stay d-”

Muffled yells lit the air like a match held up in a room full of propane. A smaller, weaker voice retaliated, but was only met with silence.

“What was that?” Remy asked.

Apparently, he was just a bit too loud, as not a moment later, a gunshot fired through the door embedded in the wall, sending wood splintering onto the floor.

“Nadiya, _who is in that room_?”

Nadiya hesitated.

“Martine.”

She hardly got time to finish her sentence as the door was slammed open, and in stepped Martine.

Seeing her look so, formal, was almost frightening, like a friendly lion; seemingly harmless, but still a wild animal.

Martine was dressed in a black suit, with a dark grey tie and white cufflinks. Her hair was sleek, ponytail higher than usual, and far less messy.

The lack of vehemence in her eyes was just as frightening as her clean appearance.

She looked calm, just like when she had been the Head of Security.

“Oh.” She monotoned. “You two.”

In a way that portrayed annoyance rather than hostility, she took her gun from its holster, cocking it and pointing it towards the two young adults sitting on the floor.

Martine pulled the trigger, and a bullet ripped through Remy’s side.

The pain didn’t set in for a few seconds, but when it did, he hardly contained a scream. He shoved his hands down on the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

Heaving for breath, Remy looked up at Martine.

He was sick and tired of this bitch’s shit.

It wasn’t like Martine was some unbeatable adversary. She had laser vision, not to mention a gun, but that didn’t make her unkillable.

He thought back to what Mary had said, less than an hour ago.

“I leave, this stupid war continues, yeah?”

In the grand scheme of things, did his life really matter? If he died, would anyone notice? Would anyone care? He was a nuisance to Nadiya at the most, and it wasn’t like Irene didn’t have other friends.

So what if Martine killed him? After all, it was Akatora who had won the fight for Gin.

“You _motherfucker_.”

He removed her hands from his side, revealing the scarlet-stained shirt beneath, and stood to his feet.

He wasn’t even using his powers when he charged, slamming his hands into her shoulders and tackling her to the ground.

Martine used the leverage of the fall to flip over so she was on top of Remy rather than under him, but he quickly kicked her in the chest, sending her onto her back.

She sprung to her feet, but Remy was faster. He held out a hand, sending a blast of raw force towards her. Though she was not knocked over, she was clearly knocked off balance, stumbling backwards in an attempt to not tumble over.

“Brat!” She shouted as she charged towards him, slamming him up against the wall by the shoulders.

Remy’s heart skipped a beat as he looked up at Martine’s icy blue eyes as they rapidly turned a scarlet red.

He was scared. But that didn’t matter right now.

He could feel heat burning on his neck, and, almost on instinct, he rolled out of the way, collapsing to the ground as her eye beams shot at concrete.

As Martine turned to attempt her fire again, she was met with the tip of a dagger on her throat.

Nadiya's eyes burned with fear and determination as she held her hand to Martine’s throat, her mouth ajar and lungs heaving.

“Fucking _brats_!”

And, with that, she stormed out onto the stage.

Remy and Nadiya shared a glance.

“We have to follow her, don’t we?”

* * *

“Here. Use this.”

Remy turned his head towards the source of the quiet, sharp voice. He nodded his thanks to Nadiya and took the cut off shirt sleeve from her, quickly tying it around his waist as a makeshift bandage.

The damp grass beneath his knees had begun to seep through his clothing, sending a shiver down his spine as he once more began crawling through the green, wood paneling brushing at his back.

The space between the grass and the stage was small, but just large enough for Nadiya and Remy to crawl through while the thick cloth concealing the underside of the wooden platform hid them.

It felt like he was trapped in an echo chamber as he continued forward. Voices and footsteps from above reverberated through his ribcage and down his limbs like electricity, only accentuating the already searing agony in his side.

When they at last reached the edge of the stage, Remy hesitated.

He wasn't scared. No, the adrenaline pumping through his veins had boiled away any fear he had about the situation. The trepidation trapping his limbs in place was spawned from, uncertainty.

Why was he leading Nadiya into this? Why hadn’t he sent her running? He was supposed to protect her.

Martine was dangerous, and he was leading her straight towards her.

Remy sat back on his haunches, awkwardly kneeling in the limited space as he looked back at Nadiya.

“Go back. Get out of here.”

Nadiya smirked.

“Oh, like hell. Hellstorm or not, we’re on a mission.”

“ _Nadiya_.”

She went ahead and emerged from beneath the stage, disappearing beyond the thick fabric cover.

Remy followed.

* * *

The battle still raged when they emerged from their hiding place, like a drawn out middle school dance, except everyone was beating the shit out of eachother. Which only happened occasionally at middle school dances.

Despite the chaos, for whatever reason, everyone had mostly stayed away from the stage. That is, except for Grace and Jonesy, who were both standing in front of it, looking somewhat roughed up, but neither bleeding.

Martine was quite the opposite. Even though she had only just been in a fight, her hair was still sleek and her suit immaculate, except for the blood stains on the side from where Remy’s wound had bled onto her.

She stood in the middle of the stage, still smiling that awful, cheery smile, gun in one hand.

“Gracie, this is really a waste of time. The broadcast is gonna start soon. You messed up your hair.” The silver-haired woman chirped, making her way towards the front of the platform.

Grace’s eye twitched and, before even speaking, she clambered onto the stage, not bothering to use the stairs in her sudden rage. She stayed about two yards away from Martine as she began to yell:

“This is a fucking show to you, huh? This is some fucking _game_! We’re playing Starcraft? Fuck y-”

Her face grew red and her fists clenched in a sheer fucking _anger_ Remy had never seen from her before. He didn’t so much as glance at Nadiya as he followed Grace onto the stage. This may not have been his fight, but Grace was, at least in some aspects, a friend.

“Grace, let’s be civil about this.” Martine coaxed, throwing her gun to the side in some sort of show of intent, sending it clattering and sliding across the wood.

“Civil? Be fucking _civil_ ? Last time I tried to be civil with you you managed to somehow get a concussion bomb and drop it on a building! You nearly killed _two people_! Does that not even bother you? Just another day at the fucking office? Fuck you! Fuck you fuck you fuck y-”

“ _Grace_.”

Even from his position, Remy could see the center of Martine’s pupils begin to glow a  bright candy red. The color fizzled and fluttered like a new flame on tinderwood.

“Do it. Fucking _do it_. Shoot me! Shoot me right now!”

Grace raised her arms, shouting even louder now, making herself a target.

Her claims of civility forgotten, Martine raised a lip in a show of hostility.

The red encompassed her whole eye, and everything went white.

Remy thought he had hit with a flashbang as everything he saw flashed white for a moment. Instinctively, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them, Grace was gone, and the ground was covered in feathers.

Time seemed to stop.

Martine was just as bewildered as he. Had Litti flashstepped in somehow? No, that wouldn’t explain the feathers.

It all made perfect sense, though, once he looked upward.

Huge wings, measuring to about a twelve foot wingspan, unfurled from Grace’s back, adorned with white feathers that grew more yellow the further the bristles were from the root. They flapped rhythmically, beating down quickly than rising slowly.

It was impossible for stimplants to allow someone to fly.

 _Grace didn’t have powers_.

Now that he thought about it, those had both been told to him by Grace herself.

Before he could consider the ramifications of this, he was tackled from behind.

* * *

Two red hot blasts of, well, red heat, shot past Nadiya, guiding her eyes to where it had hit.

Sylvane let out a shriek of agony as the beams crashed into him, exploding into bursts of flame that clung to his hair and clothes. Before she could react, something spherical slammed into her back, between her shoulder blades, knocking the wind out of her and sending her stumbling forwards.

She whirled around, seeing her attacker: A russian person, who didn’t look to be male nor female, with their hand outstretched, being orbited by two metallic spheres.

Nadiya gulped, feeling her rapid pulse thrum through her arm as it morphed into a sword.

She slashed at their legs in warning before backing up in panic as one of the orbs flew past her head. The two launched into a bout of slashing and dancing, with Nadiya switching rapidly between slashing and backing away from metal-based attack.

Eventually, breathing in the salty scent of sweat, Nadiya was, for the second time that day, stuck between a rock and a hard place:

Pressing into her back, the stage, and before her, someone who had full intent of killing her.

She looked behind herself, checking if the stage was empty, and saw something she didn’t quite expect.

Grace, wings now fully extended and twitching with emotion, and Martine were locked in a screaming match, with Martine’s back facing the curtain.

Richard’s mobility dog stood next to her, which Nadiya found odd, as she didn’t see Richard.

Until she did.

Crawling on knees and one hand, balance seeming even more off than usual, was Richard.

In his unused hand was Martine’s formerly discarded gun.

He was crawling towards her.

Nadiya attention was torn back to the issue at hand as a sphere slammed into her ribs. She returned her battle, managing to gain some ground after making a lucky shot that sliced one of the orbs in half.

Her’s, and everyone else’s, battles stopped as a gunshot slashed the air.

Nadiya whirled around to see Martine, collapsed on her hands and knees, bleeding heavily from her side.

Behind her, Richard was collapsed, gun in hand, exhausted.

Just like Addison, King Dick had had enough.

* * *

Lid’s claws slashed at Remy’s side as he deftly dodged out of the way, flipping backwards and landing solidly on his feet. He retaliated with a blast of energy from his hand, sending the snarling man backwards.

They were both shaken by the gunshot.

Of course, they had both heard gunshots plenty of times.

But something about this shot felt different. It held more weight. It was messy and unbalanced and _desperate_.

Remy and Lid saw Martine’s blood-soaked body. Well, they weren't sure if she was dead. No one was.

What they did knew was that the all-mighty Martine was collapsed on the stage, curled up in a pool of her own blood.

That didn’t mean the fight was over. Remy knew that too. Martine was down. So what? Her forces still outnumbered Grace’s and Addison’s combined.

He felt claws rake his flesh, and launched back into a losing battle.

* * *

Nadiya was heaving for breath, and her attacker was no worse for wear.

Sweat dripped from the back of her neck as she feebly slashed at her opponent’s chest, hardly able to feel her arm with all the strain it was under.

Pain shot through her knee as a metal orb slammed into it, directly in the center of her knee cap. In shock, she stumbled backwards a yard or two away from them before finally managing to regain her footing.

She couldn’t keep this up any longer. She didn’t care if she died. She was so, so _tired_.

Nadiya collapsed to her hands and knees, despite the pain putting weight on them caused.

Why was she the only one with a power that exhausted her? Was this some sort of sick punishment from god? She had never been particularly religious, but it seemed like the only reasonable explanation at this point. She was useless in a fight. Five minutes in battle and she looked like she had just run a marathon.

She was useless.

Nadiya spat blood onto the grass, hoping only that death was quick.

She looked up.

The russian’s hand was held out, being orbited by their spheres. They were _boasting_.

Though Nadiya’s vision was swimming and blurry, she was able to make out her former attacker, fleeing.

No! No one should be wasting their energy on saving her. _She wanted to die._

If she died in battle, maybe she would finally be considered the hero someone with powers was supposed to be.

She felt the overwhelming desire to curl in on herself and cry, but that urge was sapped immediately as a disheveled Toyota Corolla skidded into a half-donut, kicking up dust and sand into the air that made it somehow even harder for Nadiya to breathe.

What did it matter? It was just a car. Another piece of chaos in this stupid battle.

Well, she hadn’t quite accounted for the driver.

Mary Sage somehow looked even more worse for wear than she did back at the base. She was unable to stand without the support of the car door, and even then it was clearly a challenge. Tubes still littered her body, no longer attached to anything, instead, hanging limply like the tongue of an exhausted dog.

Despite her clear weakness, she looked somehow more, alive, than she had.

Her hair was matted and tousled, but it’s vibrant orange had returned to it, as had the muddy brown in her eyes.

Nadiya didn’t know what it was, but something had revived Mary from apathy.

The passenger door clinked open, and Jamie Youngs rounded the vehicle’s front, hurrying over to the redhead. The two women exchanged words Nadiya couldn’t quite make out before Mary looped her arm around Jamie’s shoulder, leaning on her for support instead of the car door.

The side door opened, and Flanagan stepped out.

He hardly looked to have calmed down from his prior breakdown. More so, he looked like a child who had been dragged to the supermarket with his mother, and was in no way happy about the situation. His arms were crossed and his head lowered, though there was an aspect of fear in the way he positioned himself.

Nadiya could tell instantly that he was at least somewhat under Jamie’s control.

She stared at the scene for a brief moment longer before lightning swam in her veins, and she scrambled her way to her feet.

 _Mary was in danger now, and it was Jamie’s fault_.

However, before she could rush forwards, she was picked up off the ground by an impossibly strong pair of hands that reeked of ozone.

Kardala.

“You are hurt!”

Though she squirmed, Nadiya was helpless as she was carried away from the one she loved.

As the goddess carried her towards the stage, Jamie shouted:

“Addison! Get over here!”

Black energy exploded from Flanagan’s hand and began to engulf his whole body.

All at once, Nadiya understood.

Mary wasn’t just apathetic.

She wanted the broadcast to happen.

Mary was going to sacrifice her life for the sake of peace.

Mary Sage was going to die, and there was nothing Nadiya could do to stop it.

Mary Sage was going to die, and it was all Nadiya’s fault.

Addison rushed over to the group, and Flanagan placed his hand on their shoulder.

They looked at Mary with a questioning look in their eyes.

She shook her head, making a ‘wait one second’ gesture.

Mary met Nadiya’s gaze, shouting:

“John 15:13!”

And, with that, Addison placed their hand on Mary’s shoulder.

Mary Sage began to scream.


	46. Epilogue - Chapter Forty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya Jones has a lot of regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm,,,,angst  
> Chapter Warnings: Injury mention, paralysis mention

“As we can see,”

Bip.

“In the recent study regarding-”

Bip.

“Nix Kosovo-”

Bip.

“Ed Gyzma-”

Bip.

“And Lin Maxwell’s-”

Bip.

“Hair and skin cells-”

Bip.

“We have discovered-”

Bip.

“During both forms-”

Bip.

“That the three possess-”

Bip.

“A new type of cell-”

Bip.

“Entirely-”

Bip.

“Assumably formed-”

Bip.

“In the stimplant process-”

Bip.

“Allowing skin cells-”

Bip.

“To turn into hair cells-”

Bip.

“And vice versa-”

Bip.

“Creating a new layer of skin-”

Bip.

“Outside the dermis-”

Bip.

“Deemed by the three participants-”

Bip.

“As the canis-dermis.”

Bip.

“A trigger for this change-”

Bip.

“Has yet to be identified-”

Bip.

“As has the method-”

Bip.

“By which it happens.”

Bip.

“Hopefully,”

Bip.

“Further studies-”

Bip.

“Can shed more light-”

Bip.

“On this phenomenon.”

Nadiya closed her laptop with a sigh. She was lucky to have been able to finish that report with the incessant beeping. 

Six weeks ago, it had been far more prevalent. After the battle, many were left in critical or injured states, flooding the medical wing. 

The vents had been filled with that damn noise for weeks. 

They'd all been fine. 

Remy’s gunshot wound had been properly treated, the bullet removed cleanly and without issue. His left arm was still in a cast, but Fawn had stated that the bone was fusing well, even better than expected. He was fine. 

Kardala had gotten out with minimal injuries, cuts and bruises that had required nothing more than bandages, though the fight had left Irene exhausted for days. In the end, though, they were both fine. 

Addison and Flanagan had suffered the effects of a power overload, leaving them in a disoriented state for several days, and in an injured one for far longer, but in the end, they were fine. 

The three wolves had been left with major injuries, missing teeth and grevious slashes, but in the end, they were fine. Last she heard, the three, engineers by trade, were working on making prosthetics for themselves that would change along with them. 

Grace had ended up with a gunshot to her wing, leaving a bloody wound and a broken bone, and Jonesy had suffered a deep slash to her spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Still, they were both fine. They had finally gotten married, after their initial wedding had been cut off by the broadcast only a week before it was meant to happen. 

Even Lid, Grey, and Richard were  _ fine _ . 

Finally, her invention had been used for good, and yet, she couldn't have been more sorrowful.

They were all  _ fine _ . 

Except Mary. 

Nadiya looked up, half glazed over eyes transfixing blurrily on the form of Mary Elizabeth Salome Sage, laid out on a hospital bed, wires and tubes feeding into seemingly every part of her body. 

It had been six weeks, and she had yet to awake. 

Nadiya had studied the Glasgow coma scale in med school. 

An eight or lower indicated severe brain injury. 

Mary had been at a steady six for weeks, now. 

For the first few days, she had showed gradual improvement, going from not responding in any way shape or form to twitching and opening her eyes when touched, occasionally even making incomprehensible noises that almost sounded like words. 

Fawn had assured Nadiya that it was only a matter of time, that her body was simply recovering from the stress it had been put under,that she would wake up soon, any day now. 

But days turned to weeks, and Fawn’s reassurances turned to avoidant glances and apologies. 

That didn't stop Nadiya from spending every minute she could in the chair right next to the redhead's hospital bed, sometimes even monitoring her experiments over webcams she had set up, rather than actually watching them in person. 

Of course, her sympathies couldn't make up for all she had done. 

Remy’s powers had overworked his muscles to the point of painful myositis, not to mention that he had to eat the equivalent of 5000 calories a day just to have any sort of energy. 

Irene had become noticeably secluded, not wanting Kardala to be able to hurt the others, no matter how many times the goddess insisted on her benevolence. 

Addison had lost their best friend of god knows how many years, his brain a mess of signals driving him to aggression against his own friend.

Grace had been turned into, by her own words, a freak, resigned to forever carry her regrets on her back. She had finally admitted to having been in a trio with Martine and Sylvane, not Richard. 

The wolf trio, despite how they tried to forget, had each had an arm sliced off to be studied, leaving them each crippled for the rest of their lives. 

Jonesy had lost the use of her legs entirely, ripping from her her hobby for gymnastics. 

And, of course, Mary had been subjected to agony that she couldn't imagine. She had spent over a year as a prisoner, being injected with experimental mind altering drugs, shocked with electrodes, being used as an unwilling transmitter, and god knows what else. When she had finally escaped, she was forced to isolate herself for six weeks, before being captured once more. 

She was just a kid. 

Mary was 23 now, having spent her 22nd and 23rd birthdays strapped to a bed, unconscious. 

This is what Nadiya's invention had done. 

It should've been her. 

It should've been her, used as a lab rat, being tased whenever the sadistic guards felt like it. It should've been her, alone and hungry in an abandoned theme park, finally being shown kindness only moments before getting the shit beat out of her. 

It should've been her, comatose on a hospital bed. 

God, fuck, she was crying now. She had been doing a lot of that recently, too. 

Vision blurry and movements shaky, Nadiya reached forwards, brushing a clump of Mary's hair out of her face. 

Well, it wasn't really in her face. She just wanted an excuse to see if she could get her to open her eyes again. 

Those beautiful, muddy brown eyes. 

She could feel her sobs begin to rip at her throat as Mary’s eyelids twitched for a moment before opening, her eyes glossy and gaze pointing straight upwards. 

“Hey.” Nadiya squeaked, trying her best to smile. 

Mary blinked, then her gaze turned to Nadiya. The black-haired woman moved her hand away from the redhead’s face, taking her weak, still hand in hers, rubbing circles into the back of it with her thumb, doing her best to avoid the IV placed there. 

“Hey hun.” She spoke again. As if Mary could hear her. 

“Hey.”

The voice felt like a stab to the bottom of her ribcage, a Bowie knife buried to the hilt. 

Mary had just spoken. 

Nadiya didn't know what to do. Was she supposed to respond? She didn't know. All she knew was that she could never in her life remember crying this hard. 

Using Nadiya’s hand as leverage, Mary sat up, shaking with the effort. 

She weakly coughed before looking at her hand, seeing the IV embedded within. 

“W-where am I?” She stuttered, turning her gaze to Nadiya.

“And who are you?”


End file.
